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GUIDE TO TRUE POLITENESS. 



THE 

LADIES' AND GENTLEMEN'S 

ETIQUETTE BOOK 

OF TEE BEST SOCIETY. 

INFORMATION AND INSTRUCTION 

FOR THOSE ABOUT ENTERING, AND THOSE WHO DESIRE TO 
BECOME EDUCATED AND POLISHED IN GENERAL SOCIETY. 
CONTAINING NICE POINTS OF TASTE, GOOD MANNERS 
AND THE ART OF MAKING ONE'S SELF AGREEABLE. 
A MANUAL OF 

MANNERS AND CUSTOMS 

AT 

PARTIES, BALLS, DINNERS AND SOCIABLES, 

WITH FOEMS FOE 

INVITATIONS, BALLS, REGRETS, MARRIAGES. FUNERALS, ETC. 

SEE THE TABLE Otf CONTENTS, 



EDITED BY / 

MRS. JANE ASTER. 



NEW YORK: 

Copyright, 1878, by 

G. IV. Carleton & Co., Publishers. 

LONDON: S. LOW, SON & CO. 
MDCCCLXX1X. 



353* J S7 si 



Trow's 

Printing and Bookbinding Company, * 
205-213 iSa-rz? 12M St., 

NEW YORK. 




TABLE OF CONTENTS. 



Thoughts on Society and the Spirit of So- 
cial Observances . . . 23 

Manners 27 

How can they be acquired ? 
Different means investigated. 
Necessity of some Guide. 

Ancient and Modern Authorities on Manners. 
The true principle of Manners. 
What is Society? 

The necessity of Social Intercourse. 



Three Classes of Bad Society. 



1. Low Society, distinguished by Familiarity. 
Anecdotes of Extreme Familiarity in the last 

Three Centuries. 
Familiarity from want of . Respect; from 

Coarseness; from Shyness; from Curiosity. 



38 



10 



CONTEXTS. 



2. Vulgar Society, distinguished by pretension; 
Gentility; Servility; Overscrupulousness; 
Assumption of Refinement in Language 
and in Habits 47 



3. Dangerous Society 55 

Sketch of English Society from the Six- 
teenth Century. 
Rise and present position of the Middle 
Classes. 



The Requisites of Good Society 64 

1. Good Breeding. 

2. Education. 

3. Cultivation of Taste. 

4. Reason. 

5. The Art of Speech. 

6. A Knowledge of English Literature. 

7. Moral Character. 

8. Temper. 

9. Hospitality. 

10. Good manners. 

11. Birth. 

12. Wealth. 

13. Rank. 

14. Distinction. 



CONTENTS. 



11 



The Spieit of Social Obseeyances 88 

The Connection between the Laws of Chris- 
tianity and those of Society. 
Domestic Position. 
Paterfamilias. 
The Matron. 

The Young Married Man. 
The Bachelor. 
The Young Lady. 

The Art of making One's self Agreeable. 



CHAPTER L 

The Deessing-Room 107 

Cleanliness. 

The Bath: Hot, Cold, and Tepid. 

The Teeth. 

The Nails. 

Razors and Shaving. 

Beards, Mustaches, Whiskers. 

The Hair. 



CHAPTER IT. 

The Lady's Toilet 127 

Early Rising. 
Cleanliness. 



12 



CONTENTS. 



Exercise , 

Rouge and Cosmetics. 



150 



The Hair. 

Perfumes, Toilet Appliances, &c. 



CHAPTER III. 



Dress, 



163 



Fashion; Appropriateness to Age; to Posi- 
tion; to Place; Town and Country; on the 
Continent; to Climate; to Size; to different 
Occasions. 

Extravagance. 

Simplicity. 

Jewelry. 

Maxims for Ornaments. 
Orders, &c. 

Cleanliness and Freshness. 
Linen. 

Seasonable Dress. 

Estimate of a "Wardrobe. 

Morning Dress at Home. 

Dress for Walking. 

Dress for Visits. 

Dress for Dinner Parties. 

Dress for Evening Parties and Balls. 



The Hat. 

"Well-dressed and Ill-dressed. 



CONTENTS. 



13 



Fast Dressing 

Different Styles of Dress. 
Sporting Costumes. 
Hunting, &c. 



169 



CHAPTER IV. 



Lady's Dress 



170 



The Love of Dress. • 

Extravagance, Pecuniary, and in Fashion. 

Modern Dress, Stays, Tightness, &c. 

Dress and Feeling. 

The Ordinary In-door Dress. 

The Ordinary Out-door Dress. 

Country Dress. 

Carriage and Visiting Dress. 

Evening Costume at Home. 

Dinner Dress. 

Evening Party Dress. 

Ball Dress. 

Riding Dress. 

Court Dress. 



CHAPTER V. 



Accomplishments, 



209 



Their Value. 
Self-defence — Boxing. 



14 



CONTENTS. 



The Sword and the Fist 212 

Duelling. 
Field Spcrts. 
Riding. 
Mounting. 

Assisting a Lady to Mount. 

Driving. 

Dancing. 

Quadrilles. 

Round Dances. 

Hints on Dancing. 

The Valtz. 

Polka. 

Other Dances. 
The Piano. 
Music in General. 
Singing. 
Cards. 

Round Games. 
Languages. 

Knowledge of Current Affairs. 

Carving : Hints on Carving and Helping. 

Soup. 

Fish. • 

Joints (Beef, Mutton, Lamb, Veal, Pork, 

Ham, Venison). 
Animals served whole. 
Fowls, Game, Goose, Turkey, &c. 



CONTENTS. 



15 



CHAPTER VI. 

Feminine Accomplishments 259 

Their Necessity. 

Social and Domestic Value. 

Music. 

Choice of Instruments. 
Singing. 

Age a Restriction. 
Choice of Songs. 

Etiquette of Singing and Playing. 

Appropriateness. 

German and Italian Singing. 

Working. 

Working Parties Abroad. 
Appropriateness of Work. 



CHAPTER VII. 

Manners, Carriage, and Habits 270 

The Necessity for Laws of Etiquette. 
Manner: value of a good one. 
Rules for preserving it. 
Self-respect. 
Affectation. 

Different kinds of Manner to be avoided. 



16 



CONTENTS. 



A change of Manner demanded by circum- 



Carriage. 
Dignity. 

Physical Carriage, and how a man should 

walk. 
The Smile. 

Vehement action to be avoided. 
Certain Bad Habits. 
Smoking discussed. 
Etiquette thereof. 

A Lecture on Eating and Drinking at Dinner, 
and Habits at Meals. 



stances 



280 



CHAPTER VIII. 
♦ 



The Caeeiage of a Lady 



298 



Its Importance to the Sex. 

Young Ladies. 

Modesty. 

Agreeableness. 

Politeness. 

Dignity. 

Delicacy of Language. 
Temper. 

Fastness, Flirting, &o. 

The Prude and the Blue-Stocking, 

Bearing of Married Women. 



CONTENTS. 



French Manners 

The Physical Carriage of Ladies. 



17 

309 



CHAPTER IX. 
In Public... 311 

The Promenade. 
The "Cut." 

Its Folly and objectionable character. 
Sometimes necessary. 
Should be made Inoffensively. 
.Etiquette of the "Cut." 
The Salute. 
Its History. 

Different Modes of Salutation. 
* Kissing. 
Shaking Hands. 
Various Ways of doing so. 
Walking and Driving with Ladies, 
Etiquette of Railway Travelling. 



CHAPTER X. 

In Peiyate 330 

The Visit. 

Proper Time and Occasions for Visiting. 

Introduction by Letters. 

Visits of Condolence and Congratulation. 



18 CONTENTS. 

Hours for Visits 

The Cards. 
Etiquette in Calling. 
" Not at Home." 
Visits in Good Society. 
Visits in Country Houses. 



CHAPTER XI. 

DlNNEES, DlNEES, AND DlNNEE-PAETIES . . . 

DINNEE PAETIES. 

By whom and to whom given. 

Selection of Guests. 

Their Number. 

The Dining-Room. 

Its Furniture and Temperature. 

The Shape of the Table. 

Lighting. 

The Servants. 

The Russian Mode of Laying the Table. 

What to put on the Table. 

Soup. 

Wine and its Etiquettes. 
Fish. 

The Joint. 
Vegetables. 

The Order of Serving. . 



CONTENTS. 



19 



Salad 

Grace. 

Dinner Etiquette. 
Punctuality, &c. 



355 



CHAPTER XII. 



Ladies at Dinner. 



360 



^Invitations. 

* Whom to Invite and whom not. 
r The Reception of Guests by the Lady. 
^ Order of Precedence. 
i Of Proceeding to the Dining-Room. 
-The Ladies Retire. 
//The Ladies in the Dra wing-Room. 



¥ Their Place in Society. 
*/The Invitations. 

Whom to Invite, 
u The Proper Number. 
* The Requisites for a Good Ball. 
^Arrangement of the Rooms. 
v Lighting, 
v The Floor. 
* The Music. 



CHAPTER XIII. 



Balls, 



378 



20 



CONTENTS. 



Refreshments 



390 



The Supper. 

Bali-Room Etiquette. 

Receiving the Guests. 

Introductions. 

The Invitation to Dance. 

Bali-Room Acquaintance. 

Going to Refreshments and Supper. 

Manners at Supper. 

Flirtation. 

Public Balls. 



"Making a Party." 

Town Parties (Receptions, Private Concerts, 
Amateur Theatricals, Tea-Party, Matinees). 
General Rules. 

Country Parties (Evening Parties, Outdoor- 
Parties, and Picnics). 
General Rules. 



CHAPTER XIV. 



MOENTNG AND EVENING PAETIES 



397 



CHAPTER XV. 



Maeeiage 



414 



Offers. 

Engagements. 



CONTENTS. 



Marriage Contracts and Settlements 

The License. 

The Trousseau. 

The Bridesmaids. 

Invitations. 

The Lady's Dress. 

The Gentleman's Dress. 

Going to the Church. 

The Ceremony. 

The Breakfast. 

Travelling Dress. 

Fees to Servants. 

Presents, &c. 




THOUGHTS ON SOCIETY, 



AND THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. 

A sermon and a book of etiquette have been taken as 
the antipodes of literature. Most erroneously ! The one 
is a necessary appendix to the other ; and the missionary 
of the South Sea Islands would tell you that it is useless 
to teach the savage religion without the addition of a few 
rules of courtesy. On manners, refinement, rules of good 
breeding, and even the forms of etiquette, we are for ever 
talking, judging our neighbors severely by the breach of 
traditionary and unwritten laws, and choosing our society 
and even our friends by the touchstone of courtesy. We 
are taught manners before religion ; our nurses and our 
parents preach their lay sermons upon them long before 
they open for us the Bible and the Catechism ; our domi- 
nies flog into us Greek verbs and English behavior with 
the same cane ; and Eton and Oxford declare with pride, 
that however little they may teach their frequenters, thej 
fet least turn them out gentlemen. Nay, we keep a gran i 
state official, with a high salary, for no other purpose*, 
than to preserve the formal etiquette of the Court, and to 
isaue from time to time a series of occasional services in 

(23) 



24 



THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. 



which the minutest laws of courtly behavior are codified 
with majestic solemnity. 

Yet with all this and much more deference which we 
show now to manners in general, now to the arbitrary laws 
of etiquette which seem to have no object but exclusive- 
ness, we are always ready to raise a titter at the attempt 
to reduce the former to a system, or codify the latter for 
the sake of convenience. The polished affect to despise 
the took of etiquette as unnecessary, forgetting that, in 
the present day, the circles of good society are growing 
wider and wider, admitting repeatedly and more than ever, 
men who have risen from the cottage or the workshop, and 
have had neither their training nor their experience. 
What if railway kings and mushroom millionaires had 
studied their grammars and manner-books in the respites 
from business, would the noble lords, who, with their wives 

nd daughters, condescended, nay, were proud, to dine 
with the quondam shop-boy and mechanic, have thus been 
sneered at by the middle classes for a worship of gold, 
which could induce them to put up with gross vulgarity, 
and for a respect for success which could allow the great- 
est sticklers for etiquette U endure its repeated neglect? 
Surely it is in the interest of future premiers and noble 
members of council, that John Smith should know how to 
behave before they visit him : and how can he possibly 
learn it without either a tutor, a book, or experience in 

ociety ? 

The first is undoubtedly the best medium ; and vre con 
Stantly find the sons of mannerless millionaires tutored 
into the habits of good society, but at the same time it is 
% course which demands youth, time, and the absence of 
business occupations ; but everybody at first sight, agrees 



THE CHAPLAIN AND THE NUNCIO. 25 

that experience in society is the only good way to acquire 
the polish it demands. True, maybe ; but if it demands 
that polish in you, how will it take you without it ? How 
can you obtain the entree into good society, when, on the 
very threshold, you are found deficient in its first rules ? 
If 3W ? if you succeed in pushing your way into sets which 
you believe to constitute good society, can you bo suie 
that they will tolerate you there till you have learned 
your lesson, which is not one to be known in a day ? 
Your failure, indeed, may be painful, and end in your 
ejectment for ever from the circles you have taken so 
much trouble to press into. 

I remember an instance of such a failure which occur- 
red many years ago, in a distant European capital. The 
English residents had long been without a chaplain, and 
the arrival of an English clergyman was hailed with such 
enthusiasm, that a deputation at once attended on him and 
offered him the post, which he accepted. We soon found 
that our course was a mistaken one. Slovenly in his 
dress, dirty in his habits, and quite ignorant of the com- 
monest rules of politeness, our new chaplain would have 
brought little credit to the English hierarchy even had his 
manners been retiring and unobtrusive. They were pre- 
cisely the reverse. By dint of cringing, flattery, and a 
readiness to serve in no matter what undertaking, he push- 
ed himself, by virtue of his new position, into some of the 
highest circles. One evening it happened that the ne^r 
chaplain and the Pope's nuncio were both at the same* 
evening party. The pontifical legate went out but little, 
and the lady of the house had used great exertions to 
procure his presence. The contrast between the repre- 
sentatives of the two Churches was trying for us. 
2 



26 13E SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. 



cardinal, grave, dignified, and courtly, rece'f/* the ad 
ranees of those who were introduced to lavi as his due 
The chaplain, in a frayed and dirty shhc, with holes iu 
his boots and ill-combed hair, was awaking up to the 
grandees and doing his best to gaiii their attention by 
smiles and flattery. He had heard somewhere that no in- 
troductions were needed in Continental salons, ar.d you 
can imagine our surprise when we saw him slide sideways 
up to the red-stockinged nuncio, tap him familiarly on the 
shoulder, and with a full grin exclaim, " Well, my Lord, 
how did you leave the Pope ? " The cardinal bowed and 
smiled, but could not conceal his astonishment. The fa- 
miliarity was not indeed a crime, but it proved that the 
offender was not fit for the society into which he had 
pushed himself ; and the legate, glad to have a story 
against the Protestants, made the most of ; t, and repeat- 
ed it until the new chaplain found his mtn e to the 
drawing-rooms of the great was generally cancelled. 

Useful or not useful, it would seem that codes of man- 
ners are thought ridiculous. If the farce-writer wants to 
introduce a thoroughly credulous country girl, he makes 
her carry a little book of etiquette under her fan into the 
!; all-room; and if the heavy-headed essayists of a Quar- 
terly want a light subject to relieve the tedium of their 
trimestrial lucubrations, it is almost sure to be the vade 
mecums of etiquette which come in for their satire. Poor 
indeed, and reduced in honor as well as capital, must be 
the man of letters, they tell you, who will condescend to 
write on the angle of a bow, or the punctilio of an insult ; 
forgetting that these are but some of the details which go 
to make an important whole, and that we might as hon- 
estly sneer at the antiquarian who revels in a dirty coir 



THE HIGHEST AUTHORITIES ON THE SUBJECT. 27 



of the size of a farthing, or the geologist who fills his 
pockets with chips of ugly stone. However, the sneer m 
raised, and it is our duty to speak of it. 

There remain, then, three reasons for holding woiks 
frf this sort in disrepute: either manners themselves an 
'ontemptible, or they are not a subject worthy of the 
eonsideration of the wise and great ; or the books of eti- 
quette themselves are ridiculous in their treatment of tho 
subject. 

The value of manners is to be the main theme of this 
introduction ; as regards their value as a subject, I can 
only point to those who have discoursed or written upon 
them, and I think it may be affirmed that few moral 
teachers have not touched on the kindred subject. Indeed 
the true spirit of good manners is so nearly allied to that 
of good morals, that it is scarcely possible to avoid doing 
so. Our Saviour himself has taught us that modesty is 
the true spirit of decent behavior, and was not ashamed 
to notice and rebuke the forward manners of his fellow 
guests in taking the upper seats at banquets, while he has 
chosen the etiquettes of marriage as illustrations in seve- 
ral of his parables. Even in speaking of the scrupulous 
habits of the Pharisees, he did not condemn their cleanli- 
ness itself, but the folly which attached so much value to 
mere form. He conformed himself to those habits, and in 
the washing of feet at meals, drew a practical le3son of 
beautiful humility. His greatest follower has left ua 
many injunctions to gentleness and courteousness of man- 
ner, and fine passages on women's dress, which should be 
painted over every lady's toilet table in the kingdom. 

As to the philosophers, who are anything but men of 
food manners themselves, there are few who havo not 



28 



THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. 



taught behavior more or less. To say nothing of the 
uglj but agreeable old gentleman, Socrates, who went 
about the city asking as many questions as a counsel foi 
the defendant in a case of circumstantial evidence, we 
have his jupil's pupil Aristotle, whose ethics the Oxford 
boys are taught to look upon as next in wisdom to the 
Bible, aid truer than any similar work. We are con- 
vinced tb \t the greater part of the ethics might be turneJ 
into a c< Guide to the Complete Gentleman." In fact 
the Stag /rite's morals are social ones; the morals that 
fit a man to shine in the agora and the academy. He 
has raired the peculiar behavior of the y.ulb; x&yaddi 
bvr/j — alias " gentleman" — to' his equals, betters, and 
inferior, into one of the cardinal virtues, and has given 
us, besides, several chapters on wit and conversation, in- 
timacies, and the proper carriage of a good citizen in 
society. 

But to look nearer home, Lord Bacon himself has de- 
voted an essay to manners, and reminds us that as a pre- 
cious stone must be of very high value to do without a 
Betting, a man must be a very great one to dispense with 
social observances ; and probably Johnson thought him- 
self one of these unset gems, when he made such speech- 
es as, " Sir, you're a fool or at Aberdeen, " Yes, sir, 
Scotland is what I expected ; I expected a savage coun- 
try, and savage people, and I have found them." 

But why multiply instances ? If we look to the satirist 
of aL ages, we find that manners as well as morals came 
ander their lash, and many taught by ridicule what wo 
id by precept. Horace, the Spectator, and Thackeray 
expose the vulgarities and affecta cions of society ; and the 
finest wit of hi3 day. Chesterfield, is the patron saint of 
the writers on Behavior. 



FALSE MOIIVES FOR POLITENESS. 



29 



We have, therefore, no lack of precedent; but it is cer- 
tainly true that too often the office of a teacher of manners 
Has been assumed by retired Turveydrc.ps, and genteo; 
nasters of ceremonies, and the laugh that is raised at their 
hints on propriety is not always without excuse. It would 
be very bad manners in me to criticise the works of forme? 
writers on this subject, and thus put forward my own M 
the ne phis ultra of perfection. I confess, indeed, that I 
can never aspire to the delicacy and apparently universal 
acquirements of some of these genteel persons. If I can 
tell you how to entertain your gue:ts, I cannot furnish a 
list of cartes for dinners, like the author of the Art of 
Dining. If I can tell you how to dance with propriety , 
I must despair of describing the Terpsichorean inventions 
of a D'Egville or a Delplanque, or of giving directions for 
the intricate evolutions of one hundred and one dances, of 
v hich in the present day not a dozen are ever performed. 

I may, however, be permitted to point out that too many 
of my predecessors have acted on a wrong principle. I 
have before me at least a dozen books treating of etiquette 
of different dates, and I find that one and all, including 
Chesterfield, state the motive for politeness to be either 
he desire to shine, or the wish to raise one's self into 
society supposed to be better than one's own. One of the 
best begins by defining Etiquette as u a shield against the 
intrusion of the impertinent, the improper, and the vul- 
gar ;' j another tells us that the circles which protect them« 
elves with this shield must be the object of our attack, 
and that a knowledge of etiquette will secure us the vic- 
tory ; others of higher character confound good with higis 
society, and as a matter of course declare birth, rank, <n 
distinction as its first requisites All of them make il 



30 



THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. 



appear that the cultivation of manners is not a social duty 
but merely a means to the gratification of personal vanity, 
and on this account they must all appear ridiculous to ths 
man of sense. 

Good society is undoubtedly a most desirable accompa 
aliment of the business of life, and with some people it even 
takes the place of that business itself; but if the reader 
imagines that he is to put his book of etiquette into hia 
pocket, and, quitting his old friends and acquaintance with 
disgust, to push himself into sets for which perhaps his 
position itself does not qualify him, he is much mistaken 
as to the object of cultivating the habits of good society. 
His proper objects are these : to make himself better in 
every respect than he is : to render himself agreeable to 
every one with whom he Iras to do ; and to improve, if 
necessary, the society in which lie is placed. If he can do 
this, he will not want good society long. It is in the power 
of every man to create it for himself. An agreeable and 
polished person attracts like light, and every kind of society 
which is worth entering will soon and easily open its doors 
to him, and be glad to have him in its circle. Exclusive- 
ness is often a proof of innate vulgarity, and the tests 
applied by the exclusive are generally position, birth, name, 
or peculiarity, rarely indeed individual merit. Wherever 
these limitations are drawn, you may be confident of a 
U nciency in the drawers. My Lady A — , who will hate 
no one under the rank of baronet at her house, can scarcely 
appreciate the wide diffusion of wit and intelligence amoiig 
the untitled. Mr. B — , who invites none bat literary men 
to his, must be incapable of enjoying the accomplishments 
and general knowledge of men of the world. And then, 
too it is so easy to b3 exclusive, if you are content to be 



EXCLUSIVE SETS, 



81 



iulL My University tailor had a daughter, whose dowel 
he announced as £80,000, and he gave out that none but a 
gold -tassel should be allowed to cultivate her acquaintance. 
But the young noblemen never came, and the damsel piner! 
for a couple of years. The father widened the bounds, an* 
g< 'iii leman-commoners were admitted, but still the maidei 
was unw r ooed. In another three years the suffrage w 7 as 
extended to all members of Christ Church. There may 
have been w^ooers now, but no winners. Five years more 
and the maiden still sat at her window unclaimed. For 
another five years the ninth part of a man held out reso- 
lutely, but by that time youth was gone, and the daughter 
so long a prisoner was glad to accept the hand of an aspir- 
ing cheesemonger. 

But the tailor's vulgarity was no greater than that of 
all exclusive sets, who "draw the line" which preserves 
the purity of their magic circle, with a measure of rank, 
wealth, or position, rather than the higher recommendations 
of agreeable manners, social talents, and elevated character. 
The dullness of the coteries of the Faubourg St. Germain 
is equalled in this country only by that of certain sets to 
be found in most watering-places. A decrepit old lady or 
gentleman, long retired from fashionable and public life, is 
always to be found in these localities. Surrounded by a 
small knot of worshippers, he or she is distinguished by a 
title, a faultless wig, and a great love of whist, and the 
playful sallies of u my lord" and a my lady" are hailed as 
splendid wit, or their petulant tempers endured with affec- 
io;iate submission. How much Christianity does a nock 
in the peerage encourage ! What a pity there is not a 
retired nobleman in every set of society, to put oar for- 
bearance to a perpetual tr/al, call forth our broadest 



82 



THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OUSEKVAXCES. 



charity, and train us at the whist-table to lose our guineas 
and not our temper ! 

Exclusive society, whether the passport for admittance 
be of rank, birth, wealth, fashion, or even more meritorious 
distinctions, is not often agreeable society, and not neces- 
sarily good. The question at once arises : What is good 
society? and we proceed to answer it. beginning with an 
attempt to define society itself. 

When the ex-King Ludwig of Bavaria stops, as we have 
seen him do. to exchange a hearty word with a crossing- 
sweeoer, one of a class which the misnamed - First Ger- 
demao of Europe.*' while returning punctiliously the 
marks of respect shown him by every man that he passed, 
thought it beneath the dignity of a monarch to notice, no 
one would think of impeaching the sovereign of a love of 
low society. If. again, a country gentleman chats with hia 
gamekeeper as they come from the fields together, he will 
perhaps tell you that he has enjoyed the honest fellow's 
f: society.*' but it will be in the tone of a joke. Not so 
However, the candidate for the borough, who begs the in- 
fluential harberdasher he is canvassing, to introduce him 
to his wife and daughters, whose society he is most anxious 
to cultivate." He is quite aware that equality is the first 
essential of society, and that where it does not exist in 
reality, it must do so in appearance. 

Nor is mere equality of position sufficient. It seems to 
be a rule in the intercourse of men. that the employe* 
should rank above the employed, andjthe transaction c 
business suspends equality for a time. There is no society 
between a gentleman and his solicitor or physician, in an 
official visit, and though both hold the same rank, the pro- 
fessional man would never, unless further advances were 



WHAT 18 SOCIETY ? 



88 



made, presume on the official acquaintance to consider him- 
self a member of his patient's or client's circle. 

Society is. therefore, the intercourse of persons on a 
footing of equality, real or apparent. But it is more thaa 
this. The two thoroughly English gentlemen who, tray 
illing for two hundred miles in the same rai ] way carriage 3 
ensconce themselves behind their newspapers or shilling 
novels, exchanging no more than a sentence when the oik 
treads upon the other's favorite bunion, cannot, in the 
widest sense of the phrase, be said to enjoy each other's 
society. The intercourse must be both active and friendly, 
Man is a gregarious animal ; but while other animals herd 
together, for the purpose of mutual protection, or common 
undertakings, men appear to form the only kind who as- 
semble for that of mutual entertainment and improvement. 
But in society properly so called, this entertainment must 
address the higher part of man. Never was philosopher 
more justly put down for narrowness of mind than Plato 
was by Diogenes The polished Athenian had the rash- 
ness to define man as a biped without feathers. The ill— 
/nannered but sensible philosopher of the tub plucked a 
cock and labelled it " Plato's Man." Man is not wholly 
man without his mind, and a game of cricket in which men 
assemble for mutual entertainment or improvement is not 
society, since it is the body not the mind which is brought 
nto action. 

Indeed we hear people talk of round games being so- 
ciable and it is certain that in most of those which art 
pbyed in a drawing-room, the mind is made to work as 
well as the fingers ; but while such games undoubtedly 
excite sociability with people too shy or too stupid to talk, 
and be at ease without their assistance, we must beware of 
2* 



54 



THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. 



confounding them with sociability itself. The mutual en- 
tertainment of the mind must be immediate in society 
In chess and even in whist, the mental working is keen 
and the action is decidedly mutual, if we may not rathe 
lay antagonistic, but no one would think of saying that h 
had enjoyed Mr. Morphy's society, because he was cne of 
his eight opponents in a chess tournament, and none hu 
doting dowagers would presume to talk of the " society 5 ' 
of the whist-table. The intercourse must be direct from 
mind to mind. 

Social intercourse is in fact, the consequence of a neces- 
sity felt by men and women for new channels of thought, 
and new impulses of feeling. We read books, and we go 
*Q the play for the very same purpose : but that which 
constitutes the superior charm of society over these relax- 
ations is its variety and uncertainty. The guest could never 
have sat through the Barmecide's feast, if he had not ex- 
pected that each succeeding cover would reveal a dainty 
entremets to make up for the shadowy character of the 
joints and hors d atuvres. and not even an old maid of 
fifty could continue to attend those dreary evening parties 
at the vicar's, or those solemn dinners at thfe hall, if she 
did not look forward to meeting some new guest, or at least 
having some new idea struck into her. 

I have always doubted whether Boswell had not as great 
mental capacities of their kind as Johnson. It requires 
ei:her a profound mind or a cold heart to feel no necessity 
for social intercourse. Bozzy had not the latter. Ila 1 he 
the former? As the great mind can content itself with 
its own reflections, stimulated at most by the printed 
thoughts of others, so it carries in itself its power of vary- 
ing what it takes in. and scorns to look for variety from 



MENTAL INTERCOURSE NECESSARY. 85 

without. Most deep thinkers have had one pet book, which 
they have read, one bosom-friend whom they have studied 
in a thousand diffei^ent lights according to the variety which 
their own nervous mind would suggest. Had Boswell been 
an ordinary man, would he not have wearied of the Doc 
toi 5 s perpetual sameness, of his set answers and anticipate 1 
rebuffs ? Lovers weary of one another's minds, and the 
cleverest people are incapable of enduring a tete-d-lHe 
for three weeks at a time, and was Boswell more than a 
lover ? 

" Lean not on one mind constantly, 

Lest where one stood before, two fall. 
Something God hath to say to thee 
Worth hearing from the lips of all."* 

And it is this feeling w^liich impels men of good sense and 
ordinary minds to seek acquaintance as well as friends, 
which makes me happy to talk sometimes to the plough- 
man coming from the field, to the policeman hanging about 
his beat, even to the thief whose hand I have caught in 
my pocket. Could I have a professional pickpocket in my 
gra^p and not seize the rare opportunity of discovering 
wh?>t view a thief takes of life, of right and wrong, honor 
even manners and the habits of good society ? You may 
be sure he has something to tell me on all these points, and 
fc~ a while I might profit from even his society ; though, 
BP. equality is necessary, I should for the time have to let 
myself down to his level, which is scarcely desirable. 

I have said that there are some minds, universal enough 
m themselves to feel no need of society. To such, solitude 

society— of thought. To such the prison-cell is but 



* Owen Meredith. 



c6 



THE SPIKIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. 



little trial. Raleigh was as great in the Tower as out of 
it, and Michael Angelo desired only to sit for days gazing 
upon, ay, and communing, with the grand men and won- 
drous scenes which he found in his own brain. 

Other minds again are content with a little society, bu 

is the weakest class that can never do without it. I 
will not be difficult to show that the wits and beaux who 
have lived for society only, were men whom no one need 
aspire to rival. 

I draw this distinction in order that hereafter I may 
speak more freely of conversation in general society; but 
it must not be thought, by a converse conclusion, that every 
common frequenter of society is but a poor-minded being, 
Socrates and Shakspere. who lived continually with their 
fellow-creatures, would not thank you for such an inference, 
and the cleverest men are often the most sociable : though 
as La Rochefoucault says In conversation confidence ha? 
a greater share than wit."' 

Chesterfield says. there are two sorts of good company; 
one which is called the bcau-monde : and consists of thoss 
people who have the lead in courts, and in the gay part of 
ife : the other consists of those who are distinguished by 
ome peculiar merit, or who excel in some particular and 
valuable art or science.' 5 If this were not the opinion 
of my patron saint, I should maintain that the writer knew 
not what good company was. But in truth in the days of 
Philip Dormer Stanhope there was little option but he 
iween wealth, rank, and fashion, on the one hand, and wi 
and learning on the other : and his Lordship cannot b 
blamed for writing thus in the beginning of the c'ghteeiit! 
sentury. when the middle classes had not learnt mannert 
if a century later "Mr. Hayward, who undertaken 1 d writ* 



BAD MOKA.L.S AND BAD SOCIETY. 



down books of etiquette, tells us that " rank, wealth, ana 
distinction of some sort," are the elements of success in 
society,, 

If the opinion of a man who for twelve years labor e4 
to make a graceful gentleman of his son, and, though hr 
failed to do so, certainly thought and wrote more on the; 
manners of good society than any man before and since, ia 
not to be taken as a maxim, I must be allowed some hesi- 
tation in putting forward a definition. As Chesterfield 
himself says, bad company is much more easily defined 
than good. Let us begin with the bad, then, and see to 
what it brings us. 

Beau Brummel broke off an engagement with a younsf 
lacly because he once saw her eat cabbage. " Over-nice 
people," says Dean Swift, " have sometimes very nasty 
ideas." But George the Less evidently thought the 
young lady in question was very bad company. To de- 
fine exactly where bad manners begin is not easy, but 
there is no doubt that no society is good in which they 
are found ; and this book will have been written in vain, 
if the reader after studying it is unable to distinguish be- 
tween bad and good behavior. In the present day neither 
Brummel nor his " fat friend, 5 ' the " greatest gentleman 
in Europe," would be tolerated in good society. The 
code of morals is clearly written, whatever may be thp 
traditionary code of manners, and we may at once lay 
down as a rule, that where morals are openly bad, society 
must be bad. The badness of morals is soon detected* 
W e may indeed meet in a London ball room a score of 
young men, whose manners are as spotless as their shirt 
fronts, and fail to discover from their carriage and con 
versation that one requires assistance to undress everj 



38 



THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. 



third night, another is supported by Hebrews in gambling 
away his reversionary property, and a third, without 
Shelley's genius, shares his opinions as to the uselessness 
of matrimonial vows. But let us pursue their acquaint- 
ance, and we shall soon learn from the tone of their con- 
versation what is the tenor of their lives. 

"Bad society, then, may be divided into three classes 
1. That in which both morals and manners are bad: 2. 
That in which the manners are bad, be the morals what 
they will : 3. That in which the manners appear to be 
good, but the morals are detestable. The first is low, 
the second vulgar, the third dangerous society. 

Few people but undergraduates, young ensigns, and 
aspiring clerks and shop-boys, will need to be warned 
against low society. Where vice wears no veil, and de- 
cency forever blushes, the man of any self-respect, to say 
nothing of taste and education, will speedily be disgusted. 
The first proof of lowness is seen at once in undue fa- 
miliarity. If there ar omen in company, vou will at 
once discover their character from the manner in which 
they allow themselves to be addressed ; but if not, you 
will doubtless ere long be yourself subjected to a freedom 
of treatment, which you will readily distinguish from 
ease of manner, and know to be beyond the proper limits. 
Familiarity, on first introduction, is always of bad style, 
often even vulgar, and. when used by the openly immor- 
al, is low and revolting. A man of self respect will not 
be pleased with it even when it comes from the most re- 
upectable, or hi3 superiors ; he will despise it in his 
equals, and will take it almost as an insult from those 
who do not respect themselves. If Brummel reailj 
had the impudence to say to his patron prince, " Wales 



INSTANCES OF FAMILIARITY. 



ring the bell ! " we cannot blame the corpulent Geoige 
for ordering the Beau's carriage when the servant appear 
ed. We can only wonder that he did not take warning 
by his favorite's presumption to separate himself from the 
rest of his debauched hangers-on. when he found tha 
respect for the Prince was swamped in contempt for the 
prolate. 

This is a good opportunity for introducing a few words 
on the subject of familiarity, which, writing as an English- 
man, we may at once lay down as incompatible with good 
society. " You are a race of pokers !" say the French. 
"You are a race of puppies! 7 ' replies the inassaitable 
Englishman ; and certainly there is nothing more sublime- 
ly ridiculous than the British lion shaking his mane and 
muttering a growl when the Continental poodle asks him, 
in a friendly manner, to shake his paw. Dignity has 
its limits as well as ease, and dignity is extravagant in 
Spain, and often melodramatic in England. Charles I. 
never laughed, and his cotemporary, Philip of Spain, 
never smiled. But it must not be supposed that the En- 
glish have always been as dignified as the modern towers 
bristling with cannon, and bearing the motto, u Noli me 
tangere," who are seen moving in Pall-Mali in the after- 
noon. Stiffness perhaps came in with Brummeirs starched 
cravat, a yard in height, which took him a quarter of an 
hour to crease down to that of his neck. In the reigns of 
the Tudors, familiarity was the order of the day at the 
Court. There was nothing shocking in Bluff Harry 
stretching his huge gouty leg upon Catharine Parr's lap 
and Queen Elizabeth thought herself only witty when tc 
Sir Roger Williams, presenting a petition which she dis- 
liked, she exclaimed. " Williams, how your boot? stink!' 



\0 



THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES 



ki Tut. rnadame/' replied the Welshman, "it is my ?uit 
not my boots which stink." In Ben Jonson's day it wag 
the height of gallantry to chuck a lady under the chir^ 
and make a not very refined compliment to her rosy lips* 
Even the cavaliers of Charles' court had a freedom of 
speech and manner which disgusted the puritans : and, i 
Milton's report be true, the sovereign that never laughei 
saw no harm in making indelicate remarks before, if noli 
to. the Queen's ladies. But the most curious instance? 
of familiarity, mistaken for wit. are to be found in the 
reigns of William EEL and Anne. When Bath was the 
most fashionable spot in the kingdom, and Beau Nash the 
most fashionable man in Bath, the following speeches, in- 
terlarded with oaths, were his most fashionable mots : — 

A lady afflicted with a curvature of the spine, once told 
him that she had that day come straight from London 
h Straight, madame !" replied the magnificent master of 
the ceremonies. u then you've been horribly warped by 
the way.*' When, on an another occasion, a gentleman 
appeared at an assembly in boots, which Nash had inter- 
dicted, he called out to him. •'Hollo! Hogs Norton, 
haven't you forgot to bring your horse?" He was well 
put down, however, by a young lady, whom he once met 
walking with a spaniel behind her. u Please, madame," 
asked the Beau, "can you tell me the name of Tobit' = 
dog? " " Yes. sir,'* answered the damsel : " his name if 
Nash, and a very impudent dog he is, too.' 7 

Familiarity arises either from an excess of friendliness 
3r a deficiency of respect The latter is never pardonable.- 
We cannot consider that man well-bred who shows nc 
respect for the position, feelings, or even prejudices of 
others. The youth who addresses his father as " govern- 



ASPECT TO THE SEX 



41 



or," or "conie now, paymaster," is almost as blamable as 
the man who stares at my club-foot, or, because I have a 
very dark complexion, asks me at first sight when I left 
India. Still more reprehensible should I be if I exclaim* 
cd to a stout lady, " How warm you look !" asked Mr, 
Spurgeon if he had been to many balls lately ; inquired 
after the wife and family of a Komish priest, or begged 
the Dean of Carlisle to tell me the odds on the Derby. 

Worse, again, is the familiarity which arises from na- 
tural coarseness, and which becomes most prominent ?r< 
the society of elderly men, or where ladies are present. 
The demeanor of youth to age should always be respect- 
ful; that of man to woman should approach even reverence, 

" To thee be all men heroes; every race 
Noble ; all women virgins ; and each place 
A temple." 

And certainly it is better and more comfortable to believe 
in the worth of all, than by contempt and boldness to leave 
the impression of impudence and impropriety. It should 
be the boast of every man that he had never put modesty 
to the blush, nor encouraged immodesty to remove her 
mask. But we fear there is far too little chivalry in the 
present day. If young men do not chuck their partners 
under the chin, they are often guilty of piessing their 
hands when the dance affords an opportunity. There is a 
calm dignity with which to show that the offence has been 
noticed, but if a lady condescends to reprove it in words, 
she forces the culprit to defend himself, and often ends by 
making the breach w T orse. On the other hand, let a woman 
once overlook the slightest familiarity, and fail to show hex 
surprise in her manner, and she can never be certain that 



42 



THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCE 3. 



it will not be repeated. There are few action? so atroci- 
ously familiar as a wink. I would rather kiss a ladj 
outright than wink or leer at her. for that silent movement 
seems to imply a secret understanding which may be in- 
terpreted in any way you like. Even between meu a winl 
should be avoided, however intimate the terms between you t 
since it seems to keep the rest of the company in the dark 
and is perhaps worse than whispering. 

We often hear people complain of the necessity of 
" company manners." As a general rule such people must 
be by nature coarse. A well-bred man has always the 
same manners at home and in society, and wL it is bad in 
the former, is only worse in the latter. It can never be 
pardonable to swagger and lounge, nor to carry into even 
the family circle the actions proper to the dressing-room. 
Even wdiere familiarity has nothing shocking in itself, it 
attacks the respect due to the society of others, whoever 
they may be, and presents the danger of a further breach 
of it. From familiarity to indecency is but one step. 
Thus no part of the dress, not a shoe-string even, should 
be arranged in the presence of ladies. , The Hindus, re- 
markable for the delicacy of their manners, would not allow 
kissing, scratching, pinching, or lying down to be repre 
sented on the stage, and at least the last three should never 
be permitted in a mixed society of men and women. There 
are attitudes too, which are a transition from ease to famil- 
iarity, and should never be indulged. A man may cross nia 
legs in the present day. but should never stretch them apart 
To wipe the forehead, gape. yawn, and so forth, are only 
a shade less obnoxious than the American habit of expec- 
toration. I shall have more to say on thi3 subject, and 
mu3t now pass to another. 



SHYNESS. 



4S 



Familiarity must be condemned or pardoned according 
to the motive that suggests it. Not unfrequently it arises 
from over-friendliness or even shyness, and must then be 
gently and kindly repressed. As for shyness, which is pm 
excellence the great obstacle to ease in English society, 1 
far my part, think it infinitely preferable to forwardness 
It calls forth our kindest and best feelings, utterly disarms 
the least considerate of us, and somewhat endears us tr 
the sufferer. Yet so completely is it at variance with the 
spirit of society, that in France it is looked on as a sin ; 
and children are brought forward as much as possible that 
they may early get rid of it. the consequence 'of which is, 
that a French boy from his college is one of the most ob- 
noxious of his race, while you cannot help feeling that the 
extreme diffidence of the debutante is merely assumed in 
obedience to clire maman. Give me a boy that blushes 
when you speak to him, and a girl under seventeen, who 
looks down because she dares not look up. On the other 
hand, shyness is trying and troublesome in young people 
of full age, though a little of it is always becoming on 
first acquaintance ; while in middle-aged people it is scarce- 
ly pardonable. 

To the young, therefore, who are entering into society 
I would say, Never be ashamed of your shyness, since, 
however painful it may be to you, it is far less disagreeable 
to others than the attempt to conceal it by familiarity. 

The only way to treat familiarity arising from shynesg 
8 not to notice it, but encourage the offender till you 
have given him or her confidence. It is a kindness as 
much to yourself as to the sufferer from shyness, to intro- 
duce merry subjects, to let fly a little friendly badinage 
it him 3 until he thinks that you are deceived by his assumed 



THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. 



manner, and no longer afraid of being thought nervous, 
really gets rid of the chief cause of that feeling. 

When Brummell was asked by a lady whom he scarcely 
knew, to come and u take tea" with her. the Beau replied, 
" Madame, you take a walk, and you take a liberty, but 
you drink tea.'' It was only one of those many speeches 
of the Beau ? s, which prove that a man may devote his 
whole life to the study of manner and appearance, and, 
without good feeling to back them up, not be a gentleman 
The lady undoubtedly did take a liberty, but the would-ba 
gentleman took a greater in correcting her idiom. The 
lady erred from a silly admiration of the ex-moclel of 
fashion ; the broken beau erred from excessive conceit, and 
an utter want of heart. Let the reader judge between the 
two. If the object of politeness is to insure harmony to 
society, and set every one at his ease, it is as necessary to 
good manners to receive a well-meant familiarity in alike 
spirit, as it is to check one which arises from coarseness. 

On the Continent, where diffidence is unknown, and to 
be friendly is the first object, we find a freedom of manners 
which in England we should call familiarity. Let a man 
be of no matter what station, he has there a right to speak 
to his fellow-man, if good him seems, and certainly the 
barrier which w T e English raise up between classes savors 
very little of Christianity. W nat harm can it do me, who 
call myself gentleman, if a horny-handed workman, waiting 
for the same train as myself, comes up and says, " It is a 
fine day, sir," evincing a desire for a further interchange 
of ideas ; am I the more a gentleman because I cut him 
short with a 6 ' Yes," and turn away; or because, as many 
people do I stare him rudely in the face, and vouchsafe no 
answer? " Something God hath to say to thee worth 



TAKING A LIBERTY. 



45 



hearing from the lips of all." and I may be sure that I 
shall learn something from him, if I talk to him in a 
friendly manner, which, if I am really a gentleman, lik 
gocie y can do me no harm. 

But of course there is a limit to be fixed. Englishmen 
respect nothing so much as their purses and their private 
affairs, and in England you might as well ask a strangei 
for five pounds as inquire what he was travelling for, whs & 
his income was, or what were the names of his six children. 
But England is an exception in this case, and a foreigner 
believes that he does himself no harm by telling you his 
family- history at first sight. While, therefore, it is a gross 
impertinence in this country to put curious questions to a 
person of whom you know little, while it is reserved for 
the closest intimacy to inquire as to private means and per- 
sonal motives, it is equally ridiculous in an Englishman 
abroad to take offence at such questions, and consider as 
an impertinence what is only meant as a friendly advance 
to nearer acquaintance. I certainly cannot understand why 
an honest man should determine to make a secret of his 
position, profession, and resources, unless it be from a false 
pride, and a desire to be thought richer and better than he 
is ; but as these subjects are respected in this country, I 
should be guilty of great ill-breeding if I sought to re- 
move his secrecy. 

I shall never forget the look of horror and astonishment 
I once saw on the face of an English lady talking to a 
foreign ambassadress. The latter, thoroughly well-bred, 
according to native ideas, had admired the former's dress, 
and touching one of the silk flounces delicately enough, 
she inquired, " How much did it cost a yard?" Such 
questions are common enough on the Continent, and oitf 



46 



THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. 



E eighbors see no harm in them. And why should we du 
so? Is it anyway detrimental to us to tell how mach we 
pai i for our clothes ? Yet. such is the false pride of 
English people on matters connected, however slightly, 
with money, that even to mention that most necessary article 
is considered as bad breeding in this country. We must 
respect the prejudice, though, in fact, it is a vulgar one. 

The next kind of bad society is the vulgar, in which the 
morals may be good, but the manners are undoubtedly bad. 
What bad manners are in detail, will be shown in the course 
of this work ; but I shall now take as the distinguishing 
test of this kind of society — a general vulgarity of conduct. 
Until the end of the last century, the word vulgarity was 
confined to the low. mean, and essentially plebeian. It 
would be well if we could so limit it in the present day, 
but the great mixture of classes and the elevation of 
wealth, have thrust vulgarity even into the circles of good 
Society, where, like a black sheep in a white flock, you may 
sometimes find a thoroughly vulgar man or woman recoup 
mended by little but their wealth or a position gained by 
certain popular qualifications. Where the majority of the 
company are decidedly vulgar, the society may be set down 
as bad. 

Apart from coarseness and familiarity, vulgarity may 
be defined as pretension of some kind. This is shown promi- 
nently in a display of wealth. I remember being taken 
to dine at the house of a French corn-merchant, who had 
realized an enormous fortune. It was almost a family 
party, for there were only three strangers including myself. 
The manners of every one present were irreproachable, and 
the dinner excellent, but it was served on gold plate. 
Such a display was unnecessary , inconsistent, and therefore 



THE VULGARITY OF DISPLAY. 



47 



m gar. A display of dress in ladies comes under the same 
Lead and will be easily detected by inappropriateness. The 
lady who walks in the streets in a showy dress suitable only 
to a fete ; who comes to a quiet social gathering with a 
jrofusion of costly jewelry; the man who electrifies a 
Country village with the fashionable attire of Rotten Row 
or reminds you of his guineas by a display of unnecessary 
jewels ; the people, in short, who are always over-drest for 
the occasion, may be set down as vulgar. Too much state 
is a vulgarity not always confined to wealth, and when a 
late nobleman visiting a simple commoner at his country 
house, brought with him a valet, coachman, three grooms, 
two men servants, a carriage, and half-a-dozen horses, he 
was guilty of as gross vulgarity as Solomon Moses or 
Abiathar Nathan, who adorns his fat stumpy fingers with 
three rings a piece. So completely indeed is modesty the 
true spirit of good breeding, that any kind of display in 
poor or rich, high or low, savors of vulgarity ; and the 
man who makes too much of his peculiar excellencies, who 
attempts to engross conversation w r ith the one topic he is 
strong in, who having travelled is always telling you 
1 ' what they do on the Continent ; 7 ' who being a scholar, 
overw helms you with Menander or Manetho, wdio, having 
a lively wit, showers down on the whole company a per- 
petual hail of his own bon mots, and Laughs at them him- 
self, who, gifted with a fine voice, monopolizes the piano 
the whole evening, who, having distinguished himself in 
the Crimea, perpetually leads back the conversation to the 
t'mcme of war, and rattles away on his own achievements. 
*ho, having written a book, interlards his talk with, "Ag 
I iay in my novel," &c, who being a fine rider, shows his 
to >rse off in a s;ore of lifficult manoeuvres, as Louis Napoleon 



48 



THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL . UBKE/tVAXCES. 



did at the Egremont tournament, though not asked to takft 
part in the lists, who goes to a party with all the medals 
and clasps he has perhaps most honorably earned, or who. 
being a great man in any line, purs himself prominently 
forward, condescends, talks loud, 01 asserts his privilege? 
« a vulgar man. be he king, kaiser, or cobbler. 

But there is a form of vulgarity found as much in thosi- 
bf small as those of large means, and known by the name 
of u gentility. :: I know a man who keeps a poor little 
worn-out pony-phaeton, and always speaks of it as ''my 
carriage. 5 ' taking care to bring it in whenever possible. 
My friend Mrs. Jones dines at one o'clock, but invariably 
calls it her "lunch." The Rev. Mr. Pmnh cannot afford 
the first-class on a railway, but is too genteel to go m the 
second. Excellent man ! he tells me — and I am bound to 
believe it — that he positively prefers the third class to the 
first. 41 Those first-class carriages are so stuffy/' he says 
4 and in the second one meets such people, it is really un- 
bearable," but he does not let me know that in the third 
he will have to sit next to an odoriferous ploughboy. get 
his knees crushed by a good woman's huge market-basket, 
and catch cold from a draught passing through the ill- 
adjusted windows. There is no earthly reason why he 
should not travel in what carriage he likes, but the vulgar- 
ity consists in being ashamed 'of his poverty, and tacitly 
pretending to be better off than he is. Brown, again call 
his father's nutshell of a cottage our country seat," an 
Mrs, Brown speaks of the diminutive buttons as the 6 " man 
servant. " My tailor has his crest embossed on his rote 
paper : Bobinson. the successful stock-broker, covers tna 
pannels of his carriage with armorial bearings as large as 
dishes; Torakins. adiamed of his father's name, signs him- 



PRETENSION. 49 

self Tomk.-ns; and Mrs. Williams, when I call always 
discourses m English history that she may bring iu John 
of Gaunt u an ancestor of ours, you know." 

Nor is gentility confined to a pretension to more wealth 
letter bhth, or greater state than we possess. The com- 
monest form of it. found unfortunately in all classes, is the 
pretens* m to a higher position than we occupy. The John* 
sons, rf tired haberdashers, cannot visit the Jacksons, re- 
tired b aen-drapers, but have moved heaven and earth for 
an introduction to the Jamesons, who are not retired from 
anything. The Jamesons receive the Johnsons, but stiffly 
annihilate them at once by talking of " our friends the 
Williamsons," who have a cousin in Parliament, and the 
Williamsons again are for ever dragging the said cousin 
into their conversation, that the Jamesons may be stupefied. 
We go higher: the M. P., though perhaps a Radical, will 
for ever be dogging the steps of the noble viscount opposite, 
and call the leader of his own party " that fellow so-and- 
so." The viscount is condescendingly gracious to the 
commoner, but deferential to the iuke, and the duke him- 
self will be as merry as old King Cole, if u the blood" 
should happen to notice him more than usual. Alas ! 
poor worms, in what paltry shadows we can glory, and 
forget the end that lays us all in the common comfortless 
lap of mother earth ! 

Nothing therefore will more irretrievably stamp you as 
?ulgar in ^eally good society, than the repeated introduc- 
icn of the names of the nobility, or even of distinguishei 
jersonages in reference to yourself. It is absurd to sup* 
pose that you can reflect the lighf of these greater orb? ; on 
the contrary, your mention of them naturally suggests a 
gomparison. such as one make a between the unpretending 
3 



50 



THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. 



glorious sun, and the pale pitiable moon, -when slie quits 
her proper sphere and forces herself into broad daylight. 
v\ hen Scribbles of the Seal and Tape Office tells us he 
was flirting last night with Lady Adelaide, when the Duke 

of came up, and " shook hands with me, 'pon honor 

he did," I am tempted to think Scribbles either a gross 
exaggerator, or a grosser snob. When worthy Mrs. 
Midge relates for the thirteenth time how she travelled 
down with " Her Grace," and I see how her eyes glow, 
and how vainly she attempts to appear indifferent to the 
honor (w T hich it is to her), she only proves to me how 
small she must feel herself to be, to hope to gain bril- 
liance by such a slight contact. I feel fain to remind her 
of the Indian fable of a lump of crystal, which thought 
it would be mistaken for gold because it reflected the glit- 
ter of the neighboring metal. It was never taken for 
gold, but it was supposed to cover it, and got shivered to 
atoms by the hammer of the miner. 

But when this vulgarity is reduced to practice it be- 
comes actual meanness. The race of panders, parasites, 
r u flunkies," as they are now called, is one which has 
f ourished through all time, and the satire of all ages has 
been freely levelled at their servile truculency. But, in 
general, they have had a substantial object in view, and 
mean as he may be. a courtier who flattered for place or 
for money, is somehow less contemptible than the modern 
groveller who panders to the great from pure respect of 
Lheir greatness, from pure want of self-respect. I am 
aot one of those who deny position its rights ; and as long 
as caste is recognised in this country, I would have re- 
apect shown from one of a lower to one of a higher ckss, 
But this respect for the position must not be blind ; it 



HONI SOIT QUI MAL Y PENSE. 



£1 



ahould not extend to worship of the man. No rant, no 
wealth, no distinction, even if gained by merit, should 
close our eyes to actual unworthiness in its holder. We 
may bow to the nobility of my lord, but we are truculcnl 
slaves if we call it nobleness. We may respect with dig- 
nity the accident of birth and wealth, but if the duke be 
an acknowledged reprobate, or the millionaire a selfish 
grasper, we are inexcusable if we allow their accidental 
distinctions to blot oat their glaring faults. What wo, 
should hate in our friend, and punish in our servant, we 
must never overlook as a u weakness " in the Duke or 
Dives. It is not mere vulgarity, it is positive unchristi- 
anity, hopeless injustice. 

A less offensive but more ridiculous form of vulgar 
gentility, is that which displays itself in a pretension to 
superior refinement and sensibility. We have all had our 
laugh at the American ladies who talk of the " limbs " of 
their chairs and tables, ask for a slice from the " bosc m " 
of a fowl, and speak of a rump-steak as a " seat-fixing," 
but in reality we are not far short of them, when we in- 
vent the most far-fetched terms for trousers, and our 
young ladies faint — or try to — at the mention of a petti- 
coat, — Honi soit qui mal y pense ; and shame indeed to 
the man, still more to the woman, whose mind is so im- 
pure, that the mere name of one common object immedi- 
ately suggests another which decency excludes from con- 
versation. It is indeed difficult to define in what indelicacy 
consists and where it begins, but it is clear that nature nad 
intended some things to be hidden : and civilization, re- 
moving farther and farther from nature, yet net going 
against it, has added many more. In this respect, civili- 
sation has become a second nature, and what it has once 



52 



THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. 



concealed cannot be exposed without indelicacy. For in- 
stance, nothing is more beautiful than the bosom of a 
^oman, and to a pure mind there is nothing shocking, but 
something touching indeed, in seeing a poor -woman win 
has no bread to give it, suckling her child in public. Sti] 
civilization has covered the bosom, and the ladies whi 
I wear their dresses off their shoulders are. in the present 
day, guilty of an immodesty which was none in the days 
when Lely painted — on canvas, I mean — the beauties 
of Charles' court. 

But to go beyond the received opinion of the majority 
g super-refinement and vulgarity, and too often tempts 
us to fancy that an impure association has suggested the 
idea of impropriety. I cannot imagine what' indelicate 
fancy those people must have who will not allow us to say 
" go to bed.'' but substitute " retire to rest," Surely the 
couch where dewy sleep drowns our cares and refreshes 
Our wearied forms ; where we dream those dreams which 
to some are the only bright spots of their lives ; where we 
escape for a time from the grinding of the worldly mill, 
from hunger, calumny, persecution, and dream maybe of 
heaven itself and future relief; — surely our pure simple 
beds are too sacred to be polluted with the impure con- 
structions of these vulgar prudes. Or, again, what more 
beautiful word than woman ? woman, man's ruin first, and 
gince then alternately his destroyer and savior ; woman, 
who consoles, raises, cherishes, refines us : and yet I must 
forget that you are a woman, and only call you a lady. 
tl Lady ' is a beautiful name, a high noble name, but it is 
aot dear and near to me like " woman/'* Yet if I speak 
of you as? a woman, you leap up and tell me you will not 
stay to be insulted. Poor silly little thing, I gave yo\i 



GENTILITY IN LANGUAGE. 



53 



the name I loved best, and you, not I, connected soms 
horrid idea with it ; is your mind or mine at fault ? Per- 
haps the most delightful instance of this indelicate delica- 
cy of terms was in the case of the elderly spinster— of 
whom I was told the other day — who kept poultry. In 
always spoke of the cock as the "hen's companion." 

In short, it amounts to this. If it be indelicate ta 
mention a thing, let it never be mentioned by f ^ny name 
whatever ; if it be not indelicate to mention it, it cannot 
be so to use its ordinary proper name. If legs are 
naughty, let us never speak of them; if not naughty # 
why blush to call them legs ? The change of name can- 
not change the idea suggested by it. If legs be a naughty 
idea, tnen no recourse to " limbs" will save you. You 
have spoken of legs, though, under another name : you 
thought of legs, you meant legs ; you suggested legs to 
me under that other name ; you are clearly an egregious 
sinner ; you are like the French soldier, you will swear 
by the " saprement," saving his wretched little conscience 
bv the change of a single letter. That reminds me of a 
nautical friend who "cured" himself, he said, of the bad 
habit of swearing, bv using, instead of oaths, the words 
Rotter — , Amster — , Potz — , and Schie — , mentally re- 
serving the final syllable of these names of towns, &c. t 
and fully convinced that he did well. 

That same habit of demi-s wearing is another bit of 
pretension, which, if it cannot be called vulgarity, is cer- 
tainly Pharisaical. The young lady would cut you*— 
properly enough — for using an oath, will nevertheless 
cry "bother" when her boot-lace breaks, or what not. 
But "bother" is only the feminine form of ywh* @*aoh 
expletive, and means in reality just as much h<*. fc« 



54 



THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. 



your man who would cut his throat sooner than use a La-; 1 , 
word, will nevertheless write it "d — n," as if everybody 
did not know what two letters were left out. There is 
great hypocrisy about these things 

But the worst vulgarity is an assumption of refinemeu 
id the choice of language. This is common among scr 
rants in England, and in the lower orders in France and 
Germany, where it is sometimes very amusing to hear 
fine words murdered and used in any out the right sense. 
Mrs. Malaprop saves me any trouble of going into details 
on this point, but I may observe that the best speakers 
will never use a Latin word where an Anglo-Saxon one 
will do as well; ''buy'* is better than ''purchase/' 
K wish" * than " desire,'" and so on. The small genteel, 
you will observe, never speak of rich and poor, but of 
" those of large and those of small means.' 7 Another sim- 
ilar piece of flummery is the expression, "If anything 
should happen to me," which everybody knows you mean 
for, "if I should die." As you do not conceal your 
meaning, why not speak out bravely ? 

Besides in words, there is an over-refinement in habits 
Even cleanliness can be exaggerated, as in the case of the 
Pharisees, and the late Duke of Queensbury, who would 
wash in nothing but milk. Our own Queen uses distilled 
tfater only for her toilet ; but this is not a case in point, 
m since it is for the sake of health, I believe, with her. A 
gad case, however, was that of the lovely Princess AIci 
andrma of Bavaria, who died mad from over-cleanliness 
It began by extreme scrupulousness. At dinner sir 
would minutely examine her plate, and if she saw the 
slightest speck on it. would send for another. She vtbald 
then turn the napkin round and round to examine everj 



DANGEROUS SOCIETY. 



5* 



coiner, and often rise from table because she thought sh§ 
was not served properly in this respect. At last it be» 
came a monomania, till on plates, napkins, dishes, table * 
cloth, and everything else, she believed she saw nothing 
jiut masses of dirt. It weighed on her mind, poor thing! 
glie could not be clean enough, and it drove her to in 
canity. 

Anne of Austria could not lay her delicate limbs in 
any but cambric sheets, and there are many young gen- 
tlemen in England who look on you as a depraved barba- 
rian, if you do not wear silk stockings under your boots. 
Silver-spoonism is, after all, vulgarity ; it is an assump- 
tion of delicacy superior to the majority ; and so too, is 
prudery, which is only an assumption of superior mod- 
esty. 

In short, refinement must not war against nature, but 
go along with it, and the true gentleman can do anything 
that is not coarse or wrong. Fitzlow, who cannot lift his 
own carpet-bag into his own cab; Startup, who cannot 
put a lump of coal on the fire; Miss Languish, who 
u never touched a needle ;' ? and Miss Listless, who thinks 
it low to rake the beds in the garden, or tie up a head of 
roses, are not ladies and gentlemen, but vulgar people. 
It rather astonishes such persons to find that a nobleman 
can carry his bag, and stir his fire, and that a noble lady 
delights in gardening. 

But I shall risk the imputation of over-refinement my 
adfj if I say more on this point, and so I come to the 
nird class of bad society in which the manners and 
brooding are perfect, and tne morals bad, which is the 
most dangerous class there is. Without agreeing at all 
with the Chartist school in their views of the aristocracy 



55 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. 



1 think it must be acknowledged that this class of Dad 
society is found mostly among the upper circles of soci- 
ety, and for the simple reason, that except among them 
vice is generally accompanied with bad manners. We 
have historical proofs in any quantity of this class being 
aristocratic. The vice of courts is proverbial, but courtly* 
manners are reckoned as the best. All the beaux and 
half the wits on record have led bad lives. Chesterfield 
himself was a dissolute gambler, and repented bitterly in 
his old age of his past life, and it is he who says, that 
the best company is not necessarily the most moral, which 
determines the value of his work on Etiquette. There 
is. however, something in the vice of this kind of society 
which at once makes it the most and least dangerous. 
All vice is here gilded ; it is made elegant and covered 
with a gloss of good-breeding. Men of family have to 
mix with ladies, and ladies of family have almost public 
reputations to keep up. All that is done is sab ?*osa. 
There are none of the grosser vices admitted in the pres- 
ent day. There is no drunkenness, little or no swearing, 
no coarseness. But there is enough of gambling still to 
ruin a young man, and the " social evil" here takes its 
most elegant and most seductive form. While, therefore, 
on the one hand, you may mix in this kind of society, 
and see and therefore know very little of its immorality, 
its vices, when known to you, assume a fashionable pres* 
ige and a certain delicacy which seem to deprive them 
of their grossness and make them the more tempting 
Let us therefore call no society good, till we have sound- 
ed its morals as well as its manners ; and this brings us 
to speak of what good society really is. 

We cannot do this better than by looking first intc 



SOCIETY UNDER GOOD QUEEN BESS. 



51 



what is generally taken as good society. I shall, there- 
fore, glance over the state of society in different ages is 
this country, and in the present day on the Continent. 

The real civilization of England can scarcely be dated 
earlier than at the Ee formation, and even thon the tur- 
bulent state of the country, setting one man's knife 
against another, and leaving when bloodshed was shamed 
back, the same deadly hatred showing itself in open re- 
proaches and secret attacks, made social gatherings a dif- 
ficulty, if not an impossibility. Henry VIIL, indeed, had 
a somewhat jovial court, but the country itself was far too 
unsettled to join much in the merriment. In fact, up to 
the time of Charles I., there were but three kinds of so- 
ciety in England : the court, around which all the nobili- 
ty gathered, making London a Helicon of manners ; the 
small country gentry who could not come up to London ; 
and the country people among whom manners were as yet- 
as rude as among the serfs of Eussia in the present day. 
In the court there had succeeded to real chivalry a kind 
of false principle of honor. A man who wore a sword 
was bound to use it. Quarrels were made rapidly, and 
rapidly patched up by reference to the code of 'honor. 
With the country gentry, the main feature was a rough 
hospitality. People spoke their minds in those days with- 
out reserve, and a courtier was looked on as a crafty man, 
whose words served to conceal rather than express hia 
thoughts. Among the people was a yet ruder revelry. J 
fend the morality was not of a high kind. 

The position of woman is that which has always given 
the key to civilization. The higher that position has 
been raised, the more influence has the gentleness which 
arises from her weakness been felt by the other sex. In 
3* 



58 



THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. 



fact, the terra " gentleman" only came in when ffoni?fi 
were admitted into society on a par with men. A " gen- 
tleman" was a man who could associate with ladies. And 
what was the respect exacted by and paid to woman be 
fore the time of Charles I., the dramatists of the Eliza 
fccthan age tell us in every page. What must have bca 
the education of the Virgin Queen herself, who was not 
thought very ill of for allowing Leicester to be her lady's- 
maid, and kiss her without asking leave, and who would 
h ive been thought a prude had she objected to the gross 
scenes in the masks and plays acted before her, and found 
often enough even in Shakspere. Not only were " things 
called by their right names," but an insidious innuendo 
took the place very often of better wit, and was probably 
enjoyed far more. 

The country gentry lived in their moated houses at 
great distances from one another, and the country lady 
was rarely more than a good housewife, serving a rough 
hospitality to her guests ; while the gentlemen drank 
deep, swore pretty oaths, talked far from reservedly in 
her presence, and pleased her most with the broadest com- 
pliment to her fair form. 

The dignity of Charles introduced a rather more noble 
bearing among; the men, and the Puritans did much to 
ckanse society of its gross familiarities ; but the position 
of women was still a very inferior one, and it was not til? 
the beginning of the last century that they took a promi 
Bent place in society. There had gradually sprung up 
another class, which gave the tone to manners. Hitherto 
there had been in London only the Court-circles and the 
bourgeoisie. But as the lesser nobility grew richer and 
flocked to the large towns, they began to fcrra a larga 



SOCIETY THE LAST CENTURY. 



59 



class apart from the Court, which gradually narrowel its 
circle more and more. But good society still meant h gh 
society, and Chesterfield was right in recommending hia 
aon to seek out rank and wealth, for those who had it no 
were generally badly educated and worse mannered. Thei 
^si3. however, one class now rising into a separate exist' 
once which the patron of manners has not overlooked 
It is to those men of education and mind, who, lacking 
rank and wealth, were still remarkable for the vivacity of 
their conversation — in short, to the wits — that we owe the 
origin of our modern u middle classes." 

The Spectator, however, proves what women were at 
this period. Little educated and with no accomplishments 
save that of flirting a fan, the more fashionable gave them- 
selves up to extravagances of dress, and were distinguished 
for the smartness, not the sense of their conversation. 
They were still unsuited, perhaps more so than ever, for 
the companionship of intellectual men, and it was the 
elegant triflers, like Walpole, rather than men of sound 
serious minds, who made correspondents of them. The 
consequence was that the men gathered together in clubs, 
a species of evening society which, while it fostered wit, 
destroyed the stage, and made a system of gambling and 
drinking. The high society was still the best, and it was 
among the nobility chiefly that women began to mix in 
the amusements of the other sex. Balls, too, were 
onger an entertainment reserved for Court and the 
*randees; and in the balls at Bath, under Beau Nash, vc 
End the first attempt to mingle the gentry and bourgeoisie^ 
and thus form the nucleus of a middle class. It was not* 
too that mere wealth, which could never have brought m 
owner into the Court-circles, or been a sufficient rcconv 



3 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. 

meniation to the nobility of the seventeenth century, be 
came an authoritative introduction among the gentry. 

If England is the only European country which hsis a 
real middle class, vrhere birth is of no account, it is owing 
3 that law of primogeniture which from very remote 
times caused the formation of a class known as gentry " 
is hi oh has no equivalent in any Continental country. Ii 
was this class, which belonging by connexion to the aris- 
tocracy, belonged by necessity to the bourgeoisie, from 
whom thev were not distinguished bv actual rank. From 
the bourgeoisie, indeed, they kept aloof as long as possi- 
ble : but wealth, which could give the gentry a footing 
among the aristocracy, could only come from the mercan- 
tile classes, and the rich merchant's daughter who was 
married to a country gentleman soon succeeded in bring- 
ing her relations into his set. Towards the end, therefore, 
of the last century, we find three classes between the 
Court and the people, namely, the noble, the " gentle," 
and the rich : in other words, rank, birth, and wealth 
were the requisites of society. The higher classes were 
still the best educated, but the wealthy looked to educa- 
tion to fit them for the circles of the gentry, and women 
Deing better educated took a more important place in so- 
cial arrangements. 

In this century the^e classes began to draw together 
The noble sought wives among the rich: the rich became 
gentle in a couple of generations : and th3 gentry became 
rich by marriage. 

But if a merchant or successful speculator were ad 
mined in higher circles the professional man. who couh'i 
go to Court and had alwjys taken precedence of trade, 
could not be exclided. llithmo. the liberal profession! 



THE MIDDLE CLASSES. 



61 



and literature had occupied a kind of dependent position. 
The clergyman was almost a retainer of the squire's, the 
lawyer was the landowner's agent, the doctor had hip 
great patron, and the writer often lived on the money giv- 
en for fulsome dedications to those noblemen and others 
who wished to appear in the light of a Maecenas. These 
distinctions, however, were lost in great cities, and the 
growth of the population gave to at least three of these 
professions a public which paid as well as, and exacted less 
adulation than the oligarchy; not indeed giving less 
trouble, for we have now a thousand tastes to study in- 
stead of one, a thousand prejudices to respect ; and if we 
do not write fulsome dedications to the public, we are no 
less compelled to insert every here and there that artful 
flattery which makes John Bull appear in the light of — 
I do not say the best and most noble — but the richest, 
most powerful, most thriving, most honest, most amiably 
faulty, but magnanimously virtuous of publics. 

But I am not flattering you, Mr. Bull, when I tell you 
that in respect of your middle classes you h ave made a 
vast step in advance of all other nations. For what does 
the middle-class mean? Not twenty years ago, it was 
taken to represent only the better portion of the commer- 
cial and lower half of professional society. I well re- 
member with what a sneer some people spoke of a mer- 
chant, and the gulf that the barrister and physician 
asserted to exist between them and the lawyer and geno 
r al practitioner. And how is it now ? How many gen 
ilemen of old family would now decline an introduction t 
i well-educated merchant? How many rather would no 
recommend their sons to be constant visitors on the mer- 
chant's wife and daughters? Is it not the barrister whs 



62 



THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. 



now flatters the attorney, and where is the distinctly n be- 
tween physician and surgeon? No; the middle-class has 
an enormous extent now, and even the landed gentry, 
when brought to town, mingle freely and gladly with 
commerce and the professions. In fact, we are more an t 
more widening our range. The nobleman takes a part- 
nership in a brewery, on the one hand : on the other, the 
haberdasher sits in Parliament, and sends his son to Ox- 
ford. The gentry, throwing over birth as a useless com- 
modity, rush into commerce and the professions. Dukea 
and peer3 are delighted to make money by writing, if 
they do not confess to writing for money. The merchant 
is at last received at Court ; the banker is a peer ; the 
shop-boy who has worked his way to the Woolsack, brings 
with him a sympathy for shop-boys (perhaps), which 
lessens the gulf between trade and aristocracy ; and be- 
holding these and many other wonders, you exclaim with 
glee : :< It is an age of unity, caste is obliterated, and 
in another fifty years even the distinction of a title will 
be gone, and the middle-class will comprise all who are 
educated. 

Softly, softly, my friend: no Utopias, if you please. 
Caste may be abolished in name, but it will exist in feel- 
ing for many an age, though its limitations be not those 
of rank, birth, and wealth. We used to say at the uni- 
versity that the larger a college, the smaller its sets, and 
that you knew more men in a small college than /ou pos= 

ibly could in a large one. It is the same with the middle 
or as it is now called the educated class. The larger if 
grows, the more it will split up into classes which may 
have no name, and may be separated by very slight dis- 

inctions, but which will in reality, if not in appearance^ 



THE MIDDLE CLASSES, 6& 

be as far apart in feeling as the old castes weie in every 
respect. In short, " good society" has substituted for the 
old distinctions of rank, birth, wealth, and intellectual pre- 
eminence, one less distinct in appearance, far more subtle. 
hut far more difficult to attain. Indeed, rank and birth 
were gifts, wealth often came by inheritance, and a mat 
might be born a wit or a genius, but that which has takcu 
their place as a test can be acquired only by education^ 
careful study, and observation, followed up by practice. 
It goes by the name of "breeding," and when people talk 
to you of innate good breeding, they speak of an impos- 
sibility. Some of its necessary qualities may be innate, 
and these may show themselves on occasions, and be mis- 
taken for good-breeding itself, but a further acquaintance 
may reveal the possessor in a different light. Good-breed- 
ing is only acquired, being taught us by our nurses, our 
parents, our tutors, our school-fellows, our friends, our 
enemies still more, and our experience everywhere ; and jet 
not one of these teachers may possess it themselves ; many, 
as nurses and school-fellows, certainly do not. It is breed- 
ing which now divides the one class you claim to exist, 
into so many classes, all of which are educated. One seS 
has no bleeding at all, another has a little, another more, 
another enough, and another too much — for this also is 
possible — and between that which has none, and that which 
has enough, there are more shades than in the rainbow. 

We can now therefore speak of the principal requisites 
of good society, of which good-breeding — that is, enough 
and not too much of it — is the first. I have shown that, 
Until the development of a middle class, the best society 
(not in a moral, but general point of view) was to be 
found among the aristocracy Hence the word " aristo 



64 



THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCE.-. 



crutic" has come to mean E< good for society." and then-fort 
t?hile I premise that the best society is not now high society 
either by wealth, birth, or distinction. I shall also premise 
that good society is essentially aristocratic in the sense in 
tA ich we speak of aristocratic beauty, aristocratic bearing, 
aristocratic appearance and manners. 

The first indispensable requisite for good society is edu- 
cation. By this I do not mean the so-called " finished, 
education"" of a university or a boarding-school. I think 
it will be found that these establishments put their " finish' 
somewhere in the middle of the course ; they may pos- 
sibly finish you as far as teachers can. but the education 
which is to fit you for £Ood society must be pursued long 
after you leave them, as it ought to have been beirun long 
before you went to them. This education should have 
commenced with developing the mental powers, and espe- 
cially the comprehension. A man should be able, in 
order to enter into conversation, to catch rapidly the 
meaning of anything that is advanced ; for instance, though 
you know nothing of science, you should not be obliged to 
stare and be silent, when a man who does understand it is 
explaining a new discovery or a new theory - r though you 
have not read a word of Blackstone. your comprehensive 
powers should be sufficiently acute to enable you to take 
in the statement that may be made of a recent cause ; 
though you may not have read some particular book, you 
should be capable of appreciating the criticism which you 
tear of it Without such a power — simple enough and 
easily attained by attention and practice, yet too seldom 
met with in general society — a conversation which departs 
from the most ordinary topics cannot be maintained with- 
out the risk of laps'.ng into a lecture ; with such a powei 



CULTIVATION OF TASTE. 



65 



society becomes instructive as well as amusing, and you 
have no remorse at an evening's end at having wasted three 
or four hours in profitless banter or simpering platitudes. 
This facility of comprehension often startles us in some 
^omen, whose education we know to have been poor, and 
I shose reading is limited. If they did not rapidly receive 
your ideas, they could not therefore be fit companions for 
intellectual men, and it is perhaps their consciousness of 
a deficiency which leads them to pay the more attention 
to what you say. It is this which makes married women 
sc much more agreeable to men of thought than young 
ladies, as a rule, can be, for they are accustomed to the 
society of a husband, and the effort to be a companion to his 
mind has engrafted the habit of attention and ready reply. 

No less important is the cultivation of taste. If it is 
tiresome and deadening to be with people who cannot un- 
derstand, and will not even appear to be interested in your 
better thoughts, it is almost repulsive to find a man, still 
more a woman, insensible to all beauty, and immovable by 
inj horror. I remember passing through the galleries of 
Hampton Court with a lady of this kind in whom I had 
in vain looked for enthusiasm. " Ah !" I exclaimed, as 
we passed into a well-known gallery, 11 we are come at 
iast to Raphael's cartoons." 

" Are we?" she asked languidly, as we stood in the 
presence of those grand conceptions. " Deal me, how 
high the fountain's playing in the court !" 

In the present day an acojiaintance with art, ever if 
you have no love for it, is a sine qui nan of good society. 
Music and painting are subjects which will be discussed 
in every direction around you. It is only in bad society 
that people go to the opera, concerts and art-exhibition 



68 



THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. 



merely because it is the fashion, or to say they have been 
there ; and if you confessed to such a weakness in really 
good society, you would be justly voted a puppy. For 
this, too some book-knowledge is indispensable. You 
should at least know the names of the more celebritol 
artists, composers, architects, sculptors, and so forth, ani 
should be able to approximate their several schools. 

u I have just bought a Hobbema," was said to Mrs. B 
the other day. " What shall you put into it ?" said zhe, 
hoping to conceal her ignorance. 

So too, you should know pretty accurately the pronun- 
ciation of celebrated names, or. if not, take care not tc 
use them. An acquaintance of mine is always talking 
about pictures, and asks me how I like .Hannibal Carra.ri. 
and G//arlanda^o. It was the same person who, seeing ot 
the bottom of a rare engraving the name " Raphael Mengs/' 
said in a kind of rousing ranture. " Beautiful tiling, in- 
deed, quite in Raphael's earlier style ; you can trace the 
influence of Perugino in that figure.' 5 So, too, it will 
never do to be ignorant of the names and approximate 
ages of great composers, especially in London, where music 
is so highly appreciated and so common a theme. It will 
be decidedly condemnatory if you talk of the new opera, 
"Don Giovanni," or Rossi??i's " Trovatore or are igno- 
rant who composed " Fidelio." and in what opera occm 
such common pieces as " Ciascun lo dice," or " II segreto.' 
I do not say that these trifles are indispensable, and whei 
a man has better knowledge to offer, especially with genius, 
cr " cleverness'* to back it, he will not only be pardoned 
for an ignorance of them, but can even take a high tone 
and profess indifference or contempt of them, But at the 
same time such ignorance stamps an ordinary man, and 



C0NVERSAII0N. 



m 



hinders conversation. On the other hand, the best soeietj 
will not endure dilettantism, and whatever the knowledge 
a man may possess of any art, he must not display it so 
as to make the ignorance of others painful to them. 
are gentlemen, not picture-dealers. But this applies f 
every topic. To have only one or two subjects to conversi 
an, and to discourse rather than talk on them, is always 
ill-bred, whether the theme be literature or horse-flesh. 
The Newmarket lounger would probably denounce the 
former as "a bore," and call us pedants for dwelling on 
it ; but if, as is too often the case, he can give us nothing 
more general than a discussion of the "points" of a 
mare that perhaps we have never seen, he is as great a 
pedant in his way. 

Reason plays a less conspicuous part in good society, 
because its frequenters are too reasonable to be mere 
reasoners. A disputation is always dangerous to temper, 
and tedious to those who cannot feel as eager as the dis- 
putants ; a discussion, on the other hand, in which every- 
body has a chance of stating amicably and unobtrusively 
his or her opinion, must be of frequent occurrence. But 
to cultivate the reason, besides its high moral value, has 
the advantage of enabling one to reply as well as attend 
to the opinions of others. Nothing is more tedious or dis- 
heartening than a perpetual 44 Yes, just so," and nothing 
more. Conversation must never be one-sided. Then, 
again, the reason enables us to support a fancy or opinion^ 
when we are asked why we think so and so. To reply, 
44 1 don't know, but ^ till I think so,"' is silly in a man 
and tedious m a woman. But there is a part of oar edu- 
cation so important and so neglected in our schools and 
colleges, that it cannot be too highly impressed on parents 



68 



THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. 



on the one hand, and young people on the other. I mean 
that which we learn first of ail things, yet often have not 
learned fully when Death eases us of the necessity— -the 
art of speaking our own language. What can Greek and 
Latin. French and German, be for us in our every- day 
iife. if we have not acquired this? We are often encour- 
aged to raise a laugh at Doctor Syntax and the tyranny 
of Grammar, but we may be certain that more misunder- 
standings, and therefore more difficulties, arise between 
men in the commonest intercourse from a want of gram 
matical precision, than from any other cause. It was once 
the fashion to neglect grammar, as it now is with certain 
people to write illegibly, and in the days of Goethe, a 
man thought himself a genius if he could spell badly. 
How much this simple knowledge is neglected in England, 
even among the upper classes, is shown by the results of 
the examinations for the army and the civil services ; how 
valuable it is. is now generally acknowledged by men of 
sound sense. Precision and accuracy must begin in the 
very outset : and if we neglect them in grammar, we shall 
scarcely acquire them in expressing out thoughts. But 
since there is no society without interchange of thought, 
and since the best society is that in which the best thoughts 
are interchanged in the best and most comprehensible man- 
ner, it follows that a proper mode of expressing ourselves 
is indispensable co good society. 

There is one poor neglected letter, the subject of a 
poetical charade by Byron, which people in the present 
day have made the test of fitness for good society. Fcr 
my part, I would sooner associate with a man who diopped 
that eighth letter of our alphabet than with one who spoke 
bad grammar and expressed himself ill. But if he has 



I.ANGTTAGE (]9 

not learned to pronounce a letter properly, it is scarcely 
pi nimble that he will have studied the art of speech at all. 
It is amusing to hear the ingenious excuses made by 
people for this neglect. ci Mrs. A — one person tella 
yru, " is a woman of excellent education. You must not 
he surprised at her dropping her k's, it is a Staffordshire 
habit, and she has lived all her life in that county. 7 ' I 
fancy that it is not Staffordshire or any other shire that 
can be saddled with the fault. It is simply a habit of ill- 
bred people everywhere throughout the three kingdoms. 
Nor is the plea of dialect any real excuse. It is a pecu- 
liarity of Middlesex dialect to put a v for a and a w 
for a v. Would any one on that account present Mr. 
Samivel Veller as a gentleman of good education, with a 
slight peculiarity of dialect in his speech ? Good society 
uses the same language everywhere, and dialects ought to 
be got rid of in those who would frequent it. The language 
of Lurns may be very beautiful in poetry, and the bal- 
lads of Moore may gain much from a strong Irish brogue, 
but if we object to London slang in conversation, we have 
as much right to object to local peculiarities which make 
your speech either incomprehensible or ridiculous ; and 
certain it is that the persons whose strong nationality in- 
duces them to retain their Scotch or Irish idiom and 
accent, are always ready to protest against Americanisms, 
and would be very much bothered if a Yorkshire landownei 
ivcre to introduce his local drawl into the drawing-room. 
Lccalisiii is not patriotism and therefore until the Union 
s dissolved, w T e must request people to talk English in 
English society. 

The art of expressing one's thoughts neatly and suita- 
bly is one which, in the neglect of rhetoric as a study wa 



70 



THE SPIRIT OT SOCIAL DBSERVA^CBS. 



must practice for ourselves. The commonest tl ought 
well put is more useful in a social point of view than tho 
most brilliant idea jumbled out. What is well expressed 
is easily seized and therefore readily responded to ; the 
most poetic fancy may be lost to the hearer if the lan- 
guage which conveys it is obscure. Speech is the gift 1 
which distinguishes man from animals, and makes society 
possible. He has but a poor appreciation of his high pri- 
vilege as a human being, who neglects to cultivate " God's 
great gift of speech."' 

As I am not writing for men of genius, but for ordina- 
ry beings, I am right to state that an indispensable part 
of education is a knowledge of English literature. But 
how to read is. for society, more important than what we 
read The man who takes up nothing but a newspaper, 
but reads it to think, to deduct conclusions from its pre- 
mises, and form a judgment on its opinions, is more fifced 
for society than he. who. having a large box reguhirly 
from Mudie's, and devoting his whole day to its conlents, 
Bw r allows it all without digestion. In fact, the mind must 
be treated like the body, and however great its appetite, 
it will soon fall into bad health, if it gorges but doe.3 not 
ruminate. At the same time an acquaintance wiiL the 
best current literature is necessary to modern society, and 
it is not sufficient to have read a book without being able 
to pass a judgment on it. Conversation on literature is 
impossible, when your respondent can only say, '"Yes. I 
like the book, but I really don't knew why.' 5 Or what can 
\S8 do with the young lady whose literary stock is as lim- 
ited as that of the daughter of a late eminent member of 
Parliament, whom a friend of mine had once to take down 
to dinner ? 



LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE. 



71 



He Lad tried her on music and painting in vain. She 
haa no ta^te for either. Society was as barren a themo, 
for papa did not approve of any but dinner parties. 

44 Then I suppose you read a great deal ?" asked ta 

I tend 

" Oh, yes ! we read." 
H Light literature ?" 
u Oh, yes f light literature." 
il Novels, for instance?" 
c Oh, yes ! novels." 
" Do you like Dickens?" 
u We don't read Dickens." 
u Oh ! I see you are of Thackeray's party." 
■ • We never read Thackeray." 

f * Then you are lomantic, and devoted to Bulwe? 
try Won ?" 

lL Never," replied the young lady, rather shocked. 
'* Then which is your favorite novelist?" 
lf Tames," she replied triumphantly. 
" Ah !" &ud my friend, reviving a little, " James v 
excitiag." 

" Oh, yea ! we like his books so much ! Papa reads 
them aloud U as, but then he misses out all the exciting 
parts." 

After that xtj* friend found his knife and fork better 
company tha& hit neighbor. 

An acquaintance with old English literature is not pe* 
haps indispensable, but it gives a man great advantage 
in all kinds of society, and in some he is at constant loss 
without it. The saint may be said of foreign literature 
which in the present day is almost as much discussed aa 
our own ; but, on the other hand, an acquaintance with 



72 



THE SPIRIT OP 5;;: vL OBSERVANCES. 



home and foreign politics, with current history. And everj 
E'Ubiect of passing interest, is absolutely necessary ; and a 
pel son of sufneient intelligence to join in good society can- 
Let dispense with his daily newspaper, his literary jour 
nil ?.nd the principal quarterly reviews and magazines 
The cheapness of every kind of literature, the facilities 
of our well-stored circulating libraries, our public reading- 
rooms and numerous excellent lectures on every possible 
subject, leave no excuse to poor or rich for an ignorance 
of any of the topics discussed in intellectual society. You 
inav forget your Latin. Greek. French. German, and 
Mathematics, but if you frequent eood company you wiL' 
never be allowed to forget that you are a citizen of the 
world 



The 


res 


pect for moral character is a distinguishing 


mark 




od society in this country as compared with that 


of the 


Coi 


itment. No rank, no wealth, no celebrity will 


induce 


a w 


?il-bre:l English lady to a .ai.it to her drawing- 


room a 


man or woman whose character is known to be 


bad. 


So:: 


ety is a severe censor, pitiless and remorseless. 


The w< 




n who has once fallen, the man who has once 


lost hi: 




nor. may repent for years ; good society shuts 


its d«_x) 




n them once and for ever. Perhaps this is the 


5nly cs 




n which the best society is antagonistic to Chris- 


tianity 




ut. in extenuation, it must be remembered tha* 


there i 




> court in which to try tho«e who sin against it 


Soder 




;elf is the court in which are judged those many 


ofTbncp 




:;i:h the law cannot reach, and this inclemency 


c f the 




*ld. this exile for life which it pronounces, must 


be re. 




ed as the only deterrent against certain sins. 


There 




ittle or no means of punishing the seducer, the 


cheat, 


the 


habitual drunkard and gambler, and men and 



MORAL CHARACTER. 



73 



iromen whc ndulge in illicit pleasures except this one 
verdict of perpetual expulsion pronounced v ; gx>d society 
Often is it given without a fair trial, on the report of a 
slanderer ; often it falls upon the wrong head; often ii 
Droves its injustice in ignoring the vices of one and ful- 
minating against those of another; often, by its imp laci 
hility, drives the offender to despair, and makes the ont 
false step lead to the ruin of a life : but it must be re- 
membered what interests society has to protect — the puri- 
ty of daughters, wives and sisters, the honor of sons ; it 
must be allowed that its means of obtaining evidence is 
very slight ; and that, on the other hand, it cannot insti- 
tute an inquisition into the conduct of all its members, 
since the mere suspicion which such an inquiry would ex 
cite is su'leient to ruin a character that might prove to 
be innocent. Society, then, is forced to judge by common 
report, and though it may often judge wrongly, it gene- 
rally errs on the safe side. What it still wants, and must 
perhaps always want, is some check on the slander and 
calumny which misleads its judgment. We want some 
tribunal which, without blasting a reputation, can call to 
account the low sneak who lounges into a club-room, and 
actuated by pique, whispers into a frind's ear, " in strict- 
est confidence,' 7 some silly slur on a lady's character, 
knowing that it will pas3 from mouth to mouth, growing 
bigger and bigger, and that it can never be traced back to 
the original utterer. W r e want to put down those old 
naids and dowagers who shake their cork-screw ringlels 
.t the mention of a name, and look as if they knew a 
great deal which they would not tell. We want gossip 
and scandal to be held a sin, as it is already held bad 
taste, and a higher tone which shall reject as inventions 
4 



71 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. 

the pot-house stories of grooms and lacqueys, aid receive 
with greater caution the gossip of the club-room. Hot? 
many a fair fame of a virtuous girl is ruined by the man 
she has rejected : how many an Iago lives and thrives in 
society to the present day ; how many a young man is 
blackened by a rival : how many a man we meet in the 
best circles whose chambers are the scene of debauchery, 
or who carries on an illicit connexion in secret, unexposed. 
These things make us bitter to the world, but. if we can- 
not see the remedy, we must endure them silently. Oh ! 
if the calumniator, male or femaie. could be hanged as 
high as Hainan, if the ninth commandment, like the 
eighth, could be punished with death, many a hopeful ca- 
reer were not blighted at its outset, many an innocent 
woman were not driven from her home and thrust into 
the very jaws of sin, and the world would be happier and 
far more Christian. 

In the meantime good society discountenances gossip, 
and that is all it can do for the present. Fathers and 
husbands must be careful whom they introduce to their 
families, and every one should beware how they repeat 
what has been told them of their neighbors. There is in 
the church of AYalton-on-Thames a kind of iron gag 
made to fit upon the face, and bearing this inscription : 

" Thvs is a brydel 
l or the women of Walton tyIio speake so ydel.' 

I know not what poor creature, blasted by a venomous 
tongue, invented and gave to the church this quaint 
relic ; 1 only wish that every parish church had one. and 
that every slanderer might be forced to wear it. One! 
did I say ? we should want a hundred in some parishes^ 
all in use at the sam^ time- 



TEMPER. 



7* 



A discourteous but well-merited reply which 1 heaid 
the other day, reminds me that good temper is an essen- 
tial of good society. A young lady, irritated because a 
gentleman would not agree with her on some matter. lost 
ier balance, and irritably exclaimed, ' Oh, Mr. A—, yo i 
have only two ideas in your head.' ; " You are right/ 1 
replied the gentleman, u I have only two ideas, and cil 
of them is that you do not know how to behave yourself/' 1 

Temper has a great deal to answer for, and it would 
take a volume to discuss its effect on the affairs of the 
world. It is a vice of old and young of both sexes, of 
high and low, even I may say of good and bad, though a 
person who has not conquered it scarcely merits the name 
of good, though he should regenerate mankind. Moh- 
archs have lost kingdoms, maidens lovers, and everybody 
friends, by the irritation of a moment, and in society a 
display of ill-temper is fatal to harmony, and thus xle- 
stroys the first principle of social meetings. We pardon 
it, we overlook it, and sometimes it even amuses us, but, 
sooner or later, it must chill back love and freeze friend- 
ship. In short, it makes society unbearable, and is justly 
pronounced to be disgustingly vulgar. I used once to 
frequent the house of a man who had every requisite for 
being charming but that of a command of temper. IL 1 
gave dinner-parties which ought to have been most pleas 
ant. He was well-educated, well-informed, well-mannered 
in every other respect. The first time I dined with hi in 
before I had seen anything of this failing, I was h'jrror 
Btruck by hearing him say to a servant, u Confound yoii, 
will you take that dish to the other end ! " Of course 1 
paid no attention, but hoping to cover him, talked loudlj 
and eagerly. It was useless. The servant blundered 



76 



THE SPIRIT OP SOCIAL OBSERVANCES 



and the master thundered, till at last there *H3 a dead 
silence round the table, and we all looked down into our 
plates. The mistress of the house made the matter worse 
by putting in at last, "My dear Charles, do be mode 
rate." and the irritable man only increased the awkwar 1 
ness by an irritable reply. I overlooked this, and dine* 
there again, but only once. This time it was his daugh 
t r who offended by some innocent remark. " Really you're 
quite a fool. Jane.'' he said, turning savagely upon her, 
and the poor girl burst into tears. Our appetites were 
spoiled, our indignation rose, and though we sat through 
the dinner, we all of us probably repeated Solomon's 
proverb about a dry morsel where love is. and a stalled 
ox with contention thereby, which I. for one, interpreted 
to mean that my chop and pint of ale at home would, for 
the future, be far more appetitlicJi than my friend's tur- 
tle and turbot. 

As there is nothing to which an Englishman' clings so 
tenaciously as his opinions, there are few things which 
rouse the temper so rapidly as an argument. In good 
society all disputation is eschewed, and particularly that 
which involves party politics and sectarian religion. It is 
at least wise to discover what are the views of your com- 
pany before you venture on these subjects. Zeal, huvv- 
ever well-meant, must, as St. Paul warns us. often be 
sacrificed to peace ; and where you cannot agree, an i 
feel that to reply would lead you into an argument, it h 
best to be silent. At the same time there are some co- 
casions where silence is servih No man should sit still 
to hear sacred things blasphemed, or his friend abused. 
The gentleman must yield to the Man where an atheist 
reviles Christianity, a Chartist abuses the Queen, or any* 



TEMPER. 



77 



body speaks ill of the listener's friend or relation. Even 
then he best marks his indignation by rising and leaving 
the room. Nor need any man fear the imputation of 
cowardice, if he curbs his anger at direct abuse of him- 
self A soft answer turneth away wrath ;' J and if he 
cannot check his own feelings sufficiently to reply in a 
conciliatory tone, no one can blame him if cooly and po* 
litely he expresses to his antagonist his opinion of his 
bad manners. The feeling of the company will always 
go with the man who keeps his temper, for not only does 
society feel that to vent wrath is a breach of its laws, but 
it knows, that to conquer one's-self is a far more difficult 
task than to overcome an enemy ; and that, therefore, the 
man w r ho keeps his temper is really strong and truh) 
courageous. In fact the Christian rule is here (as it 
should always be) that of society ; and the man w T ho of- 
fers his left cheek to the blow, displays not only the 
rarest Christian virtue, but the very finest politeness, 
which, while it teems with delicate irony, at once disarms 
the attacker, and enlists the pity and sympathy, if not 
the applause, of the bystanders. Of course I speak of 
olows metaphorically. A blow with the hand is rarely if 
ver given in good society. 
Another case in which the Christian and the social 
rule coincide, if not in reality at least in appearance, is 
tha 4 : $f private animosities. Of the "cut," as a neces- 
sary social weapon, I shall speak elsew r here. but t aow 
suffices to say, that when given for the first time with a 
view to breaking off an acquaintance, it should not be 
done conspicuously, nor before a number of people, Its 
object is not to wound and cause confusion, but to make 
known to the person " cut" that your feelings towards 



78 



TEE SPIRIT OF SCOIAL OBSERVANCES. 



him are changed. In good society no one ever juts ano- 
ther in such a manner as to be generally remarked, and 
the reason is obvious : It causes awkwardness and coufu 
sion in the rest of the company. It is worse. Between 
a guest and host the relation is supposed to be friendly 
if not so, it can always be immediately discontinued; &d 
that generally the ill will must be between one guest and 
another under the same roof. But what does it then 
amount to? Is it not a slur upon your host's judgment? 
Is it not as much as to say, " This man is unfit for me 
to know ; and. since you are his friend, you must be un- 
worthy of me too?'' At any rate, it is mortifying to a 
host to find that he has brought two enemies together, 
and, with the respect due from a guest to a host you must 
abstain from making his house a field of battle. There 
is no occasion for hypocrisy. Politeness, cold and distant 
if you like it, can cost you nothing, and is never taken to 
mean friendship. In short, harmony and peace are the 
rules of good* society, as of Christianity, and its denizen 3 
can and do throw aside the most bitter enmities when 
meeting on the neutral ground of a friend's house. Nor 
is the armistice without its value. Like that between 
Austria and France, it is not unfrequently followed by 
overtures of peace ; and I have known two people who 
had not interchanged two words for a score of years 
shake hands before they left a house where they had been 
accidentally brought together. Had they not been we ll 
bied this reconciliation could never have taken place. 

The relations of guest to guest are not so well under 
stood in this country as on the Continent. There your 
host's friends are for the time your friends. When you 
enter a room vou have a right to speak to and be ad 



HOSPITALITY. 



dress?*} by, ^verybjdy present. The friendship cf y mx 
host, declared, as it were, in his inviting them there, is a 
sufficient recommendation and introduction to every one 
of his guests. If you and they are good enough for hi ra- 
te invite, you and they are good enough for each other t 
know, and it is, therefore, an insult to your host to re 
main next to a person for a long time without addressing 
him. In exclusive England we require that our host or 
hostess shall give a special introduction to every guest, but 
in the best society this is not absolutely necessary. Ex- 
clusiveness is voted to be of bad style ; and two people 
who sat next to one another for a long time, with no one 
to talk to, would be thought ill-bred as well as ridiculous 
if they waited for the formal introduction to exchange a 
few words, at least at a party where conversation was the 
main object. 

As we boast of English hospitality, it is a wonder that 
we do not better observe the relations of host and guest. 
On the Continent any man, whether you know him or not, 
who has crossed your threshold with friendly intent, is 
your guest, and you are bound to treat him as one. In 
England a friend must introduce him, unless he has the 
ingenuity of Theodore Hook, who always introduced him- 
self where there was a dinner going on, and managed to 
make himself welcome, too ; but among ill-bred peopl j 
even this introduction does not suffice, and the vulgai 
often take pride to themselves in proving that their house i 
re their castles. A late neighbor of mine, of somewha 
peppery temper, used to tell with glee how he had turner 
out of his house a gentleman — an innocent but not attrac- 
tive nan - who had been brought there by a common friend, 
but whom he did not wish to know. I often thought 



THE SPIRT! OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES, 



when I heard the tale repeated, "How little you thkJ 
fou are telling a story against yourself!'' So. too, whei 
Arabella, speaking of Charles, with whom she has quar 
rellod tells me so proudly, I cut him last night dea^l 
ami before the whole party, to his utter confusion." 1 
nlfispcr to myself. ''He may richly have deserved the 
punishment, but I would not have been the executioner." 
In fact, whether as host or guest, we must remember the 
feelings of the rest of the company, and that a show oi 
animosity between any of them always mars the sense of 
peaceful enjoyment, for which all have met. To pick ! 
quarrel, to turn your back on a person, to cut him openly 
or to make audible remarks on him. are displays of tern 
per only found in vulgar society. 

The other reuuisites indisuensable for good society wil 
be found in various chapters of this work. Confidence 
calm, and good habits, are treated in the chapter on car- 
riage. Good manners is. more or less, the subject of the 
whole book and appropriate dress, another indispensable, 
is discussed under that head. Accomplishments, on which 
I have given a chapter, are not generally considered in- 
dispensable, and certainly a man or woman of good educa- 
tion and good breeding could pass muster without them 
But they lend a great charm to society, and in some cases 
are a very great assistance to it. Indeed, there are some 
accomplishments an ignorance erf which may prove ex* 
tremely awkward. Perhaps, however, the most valuable 
accomplishment or rather art. especially in persons of 
full -age, is that of making societv easv. and cf entertain- 
tag. Rules and hints for this will be given in various 
Sections, but I may here say that it is an art which de- 
Dimds no little labor and ingenuity, and if anybody 



TO DINNEB-GJVEHS. 



81 



Jtnugines that the offices of host and hostess are sinecures, 
he is greatly mistaken. The great principle is that of 
movement. According to the atomic theory, warmth and 
brilliance are gained by the rapidity of the atoms about 
one another. We are only atoms in society after all. an| 
we certainly get both warmth and brilliance when we r&> 
yolve round each other in the ball-room. But it is rathei 
mental movement that I refer to just now, although tho 
other is by no means unimportant, and the host and hostess 
should, when possible, be continually shifting their places, 
easily and gracefully, talking to everybody more or less, 
and inducing others to move. But {here must be some 
thing for the minds of those assembled to dwell upon 
something to suggest thought, and thus generate conversa- 
tion. If the host or hostess have themselves the talent, 
they should do this by continually leading the conversation, 
not after the manner of Sydney Smith, who, while dinner 
was going on, allowed Mackintosh, Jeffrey, and Stewart, to 
fall into vehement discussion, while he himself quietly 
made an excellent meal, and prepared for better things. 
The moment the cloth was removed, which was done in 
those days, the jovial wit, happier than his companions 
who had had more of the "feast of reason and the flow 
of soul" than of beef and mutton, would look up and 
make some totally irrelevant and irresistible remark, and 
Laying once raised the laugh, would keep an easy lead of 
the conversation to the end. But if they have not this 
art, h is highly desirable, that dinner-givers should invite 
tLeii regular talker, who, like the Roman parasite, jn con- 
sideration of a good dinner, will always be ready with a 
freah topic in case of a lull in the conversation :*nd always 
be able to .ntroduce it with something smart and livoly 
A* 



82 



THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL CBSEft VAN OBS. 



There is a hotel in the city where a certain number :>f 
broken-down ecclesiastics are always "on hand" with a 
couple of sermons in pocket. If a clergyman is called 
suddenly out of town, or taken ill on the Saturday night, 
or hindered from preaching by any accident, he has only tr 
send down a messenger and a reverend gentleman flies V 
him : the sermon is at his service for the sum of one 
guinea, or less. Would it not answer to institute a similai 
establishment for the benefit of dinner-givers ? The only 
question the cleric asks is. *• High or low?'' He has a 
sermon in each pocket, " high" in the right, u low" in the 
left, and produces the proper article, if he does not by 
mistake forget which is in which, and astound an evangel- 
ical congregation with the u symbols of the Church, " or 
a Tractarian one with the u doctrine of election." In 
the same way. the conviva would be always ready, in full 
dress, at six in the evening, and having put the question, 
" Serious or gay, Whig or Tory ?" bring out his witticisms 
accordingly. We do everything now-a-days with money. 
Mr. Harker gives out our toasts, our servants carve and 
give out the wine for us. The host sits at the head or side 
of his table, and only smiles and talks The next gene* 
ration will make a further improvement, and the host will 
hire a gentleman to do even the smiling and talking, or, 
like the Emperor Augustus, he will just look in on his 
guests at the middle of dinner, ask if the entremets 
are good, and go to his easy-chair again in the libiary 
Of the art of entertaining on various occasions I shal 
treat under the proper heads, and we come now to the dis- 
pensables of good society, which I take to be wealth, rank 
birth and talent. 

Of birth there is little to say, because, if a man is fit 



MERE WEALTH. 



for good society, it can make very little difference wnethei 
his father were a chimney-sweep or a chancellor, at least to 
sensible people. Indeed, to insist on good birth in Eng- 
land would not only shut you out from enjoying the society 
of people of no ordinary stamp, but is now generally con 
sidsred as a cowardly way of asserting your superiority 
A young lady said to me the other day, " I wonder you 
oan visit the C.'s ; their mother was a cook." " Well," 
said I, "it is evident she did not bring them up in the 
kitchen." My interlocutrix wore the name of a celebrated 
poet, and was of one of the oldest families in England, 
but I confess that I thought her remark that of a snob, 
the more so as the C.'s happened to be the most agreeable 
people I knew. 

The advantages of wealth are considerable in the for- 
mation of society. In this country, where hospitality 
means eating and drinking, it demands money to receive 
your friends ; and in London, where a lady can with dif- 
ficulty walk in the streets unaccompanied, a carriage of 
Borne sort, in which to visit them, becomes almost a neces- 
sity if you are to mix much in the world. But good 
society would be very limited if every man required hi 
] rougham or cabriolet. In the metropolis, again, a man 
servant is almost indispensable, though not quite ; and if 
you have the moral courage to do without one you will 
tod that your small dinners — always better than large 
«>Ties~- - will be more quietly served by women than by men, 
'^ndoners have still to learn that large pompous " feel- 
£gs" are neither agreeable nor in good taste, and that 
evening meetings, for the purpose of conversation, with afi 
little ceremony as possible, are far ie?s tedious less bilioua, 
tnd less expensive. 



84 



THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. 



They do these things better in Paris, where the dinner* 
party is an introduction of the nouveaux ?\ches. Their* 
the £ 800 t v year does not exclude its owners from the en- 
joyment of vho best, even the highest society. They maj 
be asked to every ball and dinner of the season, and arc 
not expected to return them. A voiture de remise is 
good enough to take them even to the Tuileries. The 
size of their apartment is no obstacle to their assembling 
their friends simply for tea and conversation. If the rooms 
are elegantly furnished and arranged, and the lady of the 
house understands the art of receiving and selects her 
guests rather for their manners and conversational powers 
than for position or wealth, their reception may become 
fashionable at no further expense than that of a few simple 
refreshments which are handed about. Even dances are 
given without suj pers, and no one cares whether your 
household consists of a dozen lacqueys or a couple of maid- 
servants. 

" Mere wealth. 7 ' says Mr. Hay ward, truly enough, " can 
do little, unless it be of magnitude sufficient to constitute 
celebrity." He might have added, that wealth, without 
breeding, generally draws the attention of others to the 
want of taste of its possessor, and gives envy an object to 
sneer at. I remember an instance of this in a woman who 
had recently, with her husband, returned from Australia, 
with a large fortune. I met her at a ball in Paris : she wag 
magnificently, almost regally dressed, and as she swept 
through the rooms people whispered,' " That is the rich 

Mrs, I had not been introduced to her, and had no 

desire to be so, but I could not escape her vulgarity. On 
going to fetch a cup of chocolate from the buffet for my part- 
ner, I had to pas3 within a yard of Mrs. , who was 



RANK 



85 



gorging ices amid a crowd of rather inferior Frenchmen ; 
there was not the slightest fear of my spilling the chocolate, 
and I was too far from her to spoil her dress, had I boea 
awkward enough to do so ; but as I passed back, she sud- 
den! j screamed out, in very bad French, u Monsieur, Mon > 
sieur quoi, faites-vous, vous gatery mon robe !" Of course ! 
everybody looked round. I bowed low, and begged hei 
pardon, assuring her that there was not the sligh est cause 
for alarm ; but she was not satisfied, and while I beat a 
retreat I heard her loud voice denouncing me as a " stupid 
fellow, 7 ' and so forth, and I soon found that Mrs. - 
was pronounced to be 4i atrociously vulgar" as well as 
immensely rich. 

I cannot think that rank is a recommendation to a man 
with any but vulgar people. Not every nobleman is a 
gentleman, and fewer still perhaps bear that character that 
would entitle them to a free entrr e among the well-bred. 
On the other hand, rank is a costly robe, which must be 
worn as modestly as possible, not to spoil that feeling of 
equality which is necessary to the ease of society. Some 
deference must be paid to it, and the man of rank who 
cannot forget it, will find himself as much in the way in 
a party of untitled people, as an elephant among a troop 
of jackals. If titles were as common in England as on, 
the Continent, there would be less fear of a host devoting 
himself to My Lord to the neglect of his other guests, or 
of those guests centering their attention on the one star 
In Paris, it is only in the vulgar circles of the Chauss<'c 
d'Autin, that " Monsieur le Comte," or " Monsieur le 
Marquis," is shown off as a lion; and in the well-bred 
circles in this country, the nobleman must be content with 
precedence, and the place of honor, and for the rest be as 



8G THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. 

one of the company. In Southern Germany, the distino 
tion is the other way ; the simple Herr is almost as re» 
markable as the man of title in England. In fact, every- 
body admitted to what is there called good society, has 
some title, whether by birth or office ; and a man must he 
irghly distinguished by talents or achievements to have 
the entree of the Court, I found that the Esquire after 
my name was generally translated by Baron ; the trades- 
men raised it to Graf, or Count; and the people who 

" knew all about it." called me " Herr Esquire von 

Something in the same way are military titles allotted to 
civilians in some parts of America. A store-keeper be- 
comes i% Major;" a merchant, " Colonel;" and a man of 
whom you are to ask a favor, is always a " General." 

Nothing can be more ill-judged than lion-huntmg. If 
the premise with which I set out. that society requires 
real or apparent equality, be true, anything which raises 
a person on a pedestal unfits him for society. The men 
of genius are rarely gifted with social qualities, and the 
only society suited to them is that of others of the same 
calibre. If Shakspere were alive, and I acquainted with 
him, I would not ask him to an evening party ; or, if I 
did so, it should be with huge Ben. and half-a-dozen more 
from the " Mermaid," and they should have strict injunc- 
tions not to engross the conversation. If you must have 
a literary lion at your receptions, you should manage to 
have two or three, for you may be sure that they will be- 
have less arrogantly in one another's presence; or per- 
fcaps a better plan still, is to invite a score of critics to 
meet him ; you will then find your show beast as tracta- 
ble and as quiet as his name-sake in the caresses of Van 
Amfeurg or Wombwell. The man of science again, has 



RANK AND DISTINCT ION. 



87 



too lofty a range of thought to descend to the ordinary 
topics of society ; and the bishop and distinguished gene- 
ral usually bear about with them the marks of their pro- 
fession, which, for perfect ease and equality, should be 
concealed. Distinguished foreigners, if they are cle«ia 
and can talk English well, may be very agreeable, but 
your guests will often suspect them, and their names must 
be known in England to make them desirable in any point 
of view. 

Of rank and distinction, however, it may be said, m 
preference to wealth and mere birth, that they are, wher 
seconded by character, absolute passports to good society. 
A title is presumed to be a certificate of education and 
good breeding, while a celebrity will often be pardoned for 
the want of both, in virtue of the talents and perseverance 
by which he has raised himself. Of the two, the latter 
excuses more our adulation. Rank is rarely gained by 
merit, and when it is so, it is swamped by it. Macaulay 
and Brougham have not gained a single step in the esti- 
mation of well-bred people by being raised to the peerage* 
and no one would hesitate for a moment between them 
and the untitled son of a Duke or Marquis. While, too, 
we naturally fear the epithet of " toady, 1 ' if we cultivate 
noblemen only for the sake of their rank, fre may well 
defend ourselves for the admiration which genius, perse- 
verance, and courage excite. To women, again, distinc- 
tion is less trying, since it takes them less out of their 
ordinary sphere. They are still women, still capable of 
enjoying society, with two exceptions, the blue-stocking 
and the esprit fort, neither of which should ever be ad- 
mitted into good society. 

^ut while genius is scarcely a recommendation in social 



THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES* 



meetings, there are mental qualities nearly allied to it 
which are the best we can bring to them ; I mean a thii Ic- 
ing mind and a ready wit. The most agreeable men and 
women are those who think out of society as well as in it 
those who have mind without affectation, and talents with- f 
out conceit ; those who have formed, and can form fresh 
opinions on every subject, and to whom a mere word servos 
as the springing-board from which to rise to new T trains of 
thought. Where people of this kind meet together, the 
commonest subjects become matters of interest, and the 
conversation grows rapidly to brilliance, even without pos- 
itive w r it. The man to whose mind everything is a sug- 
gestion, and whose words suggest something to everybody, 
is the best man for a social meeting. 

We have now seen what are, and what are not the re- 
quisites for good society. High moral character, a polished 
education, a perfect command of temper, good breeding, 
delicate feeling, good manners, good habits, and a good 
bearing, are indispensable. Wit, accomplishments, and 
social talents are great advantages, though not absolutely 
accessary. On the other hand, birth is lost sight of, while 
wealth, rank, and distinction, so far from being desirable, 
must be carefully handled, not to be positively objection- 
able. We are now therefore enabled to offer a definition 
of good society. It is, the meeting on a footing cf equal- 
ity, and for the purpose of mutual entertainment, of men, 
r j{ women, or men and women together, of good character, 
good education, and good breeding. ' 

But what is the real spirit of the observances whick 
this society requires of its frequenters for the preserva 
tion of harmony and the easy intercourse of all of them ? 
Certainly, one may have a spotless reputation, a good ed 



DEFINITION OE GOOD SOCIETY. 



acation, and good breeding, without being either good in 
reality, or a Christian. But if we examine the laws vt hich 
good society lays down for our guidance and governance ? 
we shall find without a doubt, that they are those which a 
simple Christian, desiring to regulate the meetings of % 
number of people who lacked the Christian feeling, wculd 
dictate. I am, of course, quite aware that good society 
will never make you a Christian. You may be charming 
in a party, and every one may pronounce you a perfect and 
agreeable gentleman ; but you may go home and get pri- 
vately intoxicated, or beat your wife, or be cruel to your 
children. If society finds you out, be sure it will punish 
you ; but society has no right to search your house, and 
intrude upon your hearth, and, as you say, it may be long 
before it finds you out. But, as far as its jurisdiction 
extends, good society can compel you, if not to be a 
Christian, at least to act like one. The difference between 
the law r s of God and the laws of men, is, that the former 
address the heart from which the acts proceed, the latter, 
which can only judge from what they see, determine the 
acts without regard to the heart. The one waters the 
root, the other the branches. 

The laws of society are framed by the unanimous con- 
sent of men, and, in all essential points, they differ very 
little all over the world. The Turk may show his po- 
liteness by feeding you with his fingers, the Englishman 
by carving your portion for you ; but the same spirit dic- 
tates bcth — the spirit of friendliness, of goodwill. Thus 
though the laws of society are necessarily imperfect, are 
moulded by traditional and local custom, and are address 
sd to the outer rather than the inner man, their spirit * 
invariably the same. The considerations which dictate 



90 



THE SPIRIT OP SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. 



tliem are reducible to the same law, arid this law from 
to be the fundamental one of Christian doctrine. Thus, 
what the heathen arrives at only by laws framed for the 
comfort of society, we possess at once in virtue of Dur re 
ligion. And it is a great glory for a Christian to be abl 
to say. that all refinement and all civilization lead men— + 
as far as their conversation is concerned — to thf practice 
of Christianity. It is a great satisfaction tc feel that 
Christianity is eminently the religion of civilisation and 
society. 

The great law which distinguishes Christ anity from 
every other creed, that of brotherly love and self-denial, 
is essentially the law which we find at the basis of all so- 
cial observances. The first maxim of politeness is to be 
agreeable to everybody, even at the expense of one's own 
comfort. Meekness is the most beautiful virtue of the 
Christian; modesty the most commendable in a well-bred 
man. Peace fs the object of Christian laws : harmony 
that of social observances. Self-denial is the exercise of 
the Christian ; forge tfulness of self that of the well-bred. 
Trust in one another unites Christian communities : con- 
fidence in the good intentions of our neighbors is that 
which makes society possible. To be kind to one another 
is the object of Christian converse ; to entertain one 
another, that of social intercourse. Pride, selfishness, 
ill-temper are alike opposed to Christianity and good- 
breeding. The one demands an upright life : the other 
requires the appearance of it. The one bids us make the 
most of God's gifts and improve our talents : the other 
will not admit us till we have done so by education. And 
to go a step farther ; as a Christian community exe'udes 
sinners and unbelievers from its gatherings, so a tiocial 



CHRISTIANITY AND SOCIETY. 



91 



immunity excludes from its meetings those of bad cnar- 
acter, and those who do not subscribe to its laws. 

But society goes farther , and appears to impose on its 
members a number of arbitrary rules, which continually 
\ restrict them in their actions. It tells them how the} 
must eat and drink and dress, and walk and talk, and si 
on. We ought to be very thankful to society for taking 
30 much trouble, and saving us so much doubt and con- 
fusion. But if the ordinances of society are examined, it 
will be found that while many of them are merely derived 
from custom and tradition, and some have no positive val- 
ue, they all tend to one end, the preservation of harmony 
and the prevention of one person from usurping the rights, 
or intruding on the province of another. If it regulates 
your dress, it is that there may be an appearance of equal- 
ity in all, and that the rich may not be able to flaunt 
their wealth in the eyes of their poorer associates. If, 
for instance, it says that you are not to wear diamonds in 
the morning, it puts a check upon your vanity. If it 
says you may wear them on certain occasions, it does not 
compel those who have none to purchase them. If society 
says you shall eat with a knife and fork, it is not because 
fingers were not made before forks, but because it is well 
known that if you were to use the natural fork of five 
pongs instead of the plated one of four, you would want 
to wash your hands after every dish. If she goes farther 
and says you shall not put your knife into your mouth, it 
is because she supposes that you, like ninety-nine out 0/ 
every hundred of civilized beings, can taste the steel whei) 
you do so, and is surprised at your bad taste, and since 
ghe demands good taste she cannot think you ft for her 
court Of course, she cannot stop to hear >ou explain 



THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. 



that you find a particular enjoyment in the taste of steel, 
and that therefore on your part it .fi good not had taste 
She is by necessity forced to judge from appearance. I! 
again she forbids you to swing your arms in walking, lik* 
v he sails of a windmill, it is not because she finds any 
pleasure in pinioning you. but because beauty is a result 
of harmony, which is her first law. and she studies beauty, 
adopts the beautiful, and rejects the inelegant. That mo- 
tion of the arms is not lovely, confess it. Society is quite 
right to object to it. *Once more, if she dubs you vulgar 
for speaking in a loud harsh voice, it is because whatever 
be your case, other people have nerves which may be 
touched and heads which can ache, and your stentorian 
tones set the one vibrating and the other throbbing. In 
short, while she may have many an old law that needs 
repealing, you will find that the greater number of her 
enactments are founded on very good and very Christian 
considerations. You will find that the more religious a 
man is. the more polite he will spontaneously become, and 
that too in every rank of life, for true religion teaches 
him to forget himself, to love his neighbor, and to be 
kindly even to his enemy, and the appearance of so being 
and doing, is what society demands as good manners. 
How can it ask more ? How can it rip open your heart 
and see if with your bland smile and oily voice vou are a 
b'ar and a hypocrite ? There is One who has this pow- 
er — forget it not ! — but society must be content with the 
semblance. By your works men do and must judge you, 
Before I quit the demands of society, I must say a few 
words on the distinction she makes between people of dif- 
ferent ages and different domestic positions : to wit, ho^ 
ihe has one law for the bachelor, another for the bene- 



PATERFAMILIA3. 



9B 



3iet; one for the maid, another for the matron; ere law, 
I mean, to regulate their privileges and to restiict iheii 
vagaries. 

Let us begin with that awful, stately, and majestic 
being, Paterfamilias Anglicanus ; the same who, having 
ieach?i the age of perpetual snow, exacts our reverence 
and receives our awe ; the same who, finding his majesty 
lost on the vagabond Italian with the monkey and organ, 
resolves to crush him in a column of The Times : the 
same before whom not Mamma herself dares open that 
same newspaper ; the same who warns her against en- 
couraging the French count, for whom Mary Anne hag 
taken such a liking, — who pooh-poohs the idea of a 
watering-place in summer, who frowns over the weekly 
bills, and talks of bankruptcy and ruin over the milli- 
ner's little account, who is Mamma's excuse with the 
sons, the daughters, and the servants — " your papa wishes 
it," she says, and there is not a word more 5 — who with a 
mistaken dignity raises up an impassable barrier between 
himself and his children, chilling back their tenderest ad- 
vances, receiving their evening kiss as a cold formality, 
and who, ah, human heart ! when one of them is laid low, 
steals to the chamber of death privily and ashamed of his 
grief, turns down the ghastly sheet, and burying his head 
there pours out the only tears he has shed fi/r so many a 
year. Poor father ! bitter, bitter is the self-reproach 
3V3r that cold form now.- What avails now the stern 
veto that bade her reject the handsome lover who had so 
poor a fortune, and broke — ay, broke her heart that beats 
no more? Of what use was that cold severity which 
drove him to sea, who lies there now past all recal ? 
Ah! item, hard, cold father; so they thought yen so 



THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. 



yon seemed, and jet you meant it for the best, a. id yes 
say you loved your children too veil. Well, well, it ia 
not ali fathers who are like this. There is another spe- 
cies of the genus Paterfamilias Anglicanus. who is a jo- 
vial and merry, and blithe by his fireside, whose chill 
ren nestle round his knees, and who has a kiss and a 
word, and a kind, soft smile for each. 

But what is the position of Paterfamilias in society? 
Where is his place ? Certainly not in the ball-room. li 
he comes there, he must throw aside his dignity, and de- 
light in the pleasure of the young. He must be young 
himself. In his own house he must receive all camera 
merrily — the bal folatre is to be a scene of mirth : he 
must not damp your gaiety with his solemn gravity. He 
is as little missed from his wife's ball-room, as a mute 
from a wedding procession : and yet he must be there to 
talk to chaperons, to amuse the elderly beaux, and. if 
necessary, to spread the card-table and form the rubber. 
At all events, he never dances unless to make up a set in 
a quadrille. He is still less at home in the pic-nic. the 
matinee, and the / te. but he is great at the evening 
party, and all-important at the dinner* But even here 
there is a dignity proper to Paterfamilias, which, while it 
should avoid stateliness. should scarcely descend to hilari 
ty. He must not be a loud laugher or an inveterate 
taker. He is seen in his most trying light in his con- 
duct to the young. While we excuse his antique fashion, 
which rather becomes him. and would laugh to see him in 
the latest mode of the day. while we are pleased with k his 
old-fashioned courtesy, and would not have him talk slang 
or lounge on the sofa, we expect from him some consid- 
eration for the changes that have taken place since k« 



TRE MATRON. 



95 



courted his -worthy spouse. Paterfamilias is too apt to 
insist that the manners and fashions of his spring were 
better than those of his winter are. He should be smil- 
ing to young women, and even a little gallant, and he 
ihould rejoice in their youthful mirth. But too often h 
is tempted to set down his younger brethren, too often h 
is a damper, and wished away. The dignity of Pater 
familias should never interfere with the ease, though it 
may well check the impudence of youth. 

The Matron is tender to her own. How much I wish 
she was as tender to the pride of others. But one hex. 
will always kill another 1 s chickens if she has the oppor- 
tunity, and Mrs. Jones will always pick to pieces Mrs. 
Brown's daughters. The Matron has many more social 
duties than Paterfamailias. It is she who arranges every- 
thing; who selects the guests ; who. with her daughter's 
pen, invites them ; who receives their visits ; who looks 
after their comforts ; who, by her active attentions, keeps 
up the circulation in evening parties : who orders dinner, 
%pj\ distributes the guests at it ; who introduces partners 
hi balls with her daughter's assistance ; who engages the 
chaperons ; who herself must go, willing or not, to look 
after her Ada and her Edith at the ball, and sit unmur- 
muring to the end of the dance. But she is well repaid 
by their pleasure, and when Ada talks of the Captain-'a 
attention, and Edith tells her what the curate whispered, 
ihe is perfectly happy. The matron without children ia 
a woman out of her sphere, and until her children ars 
grown up, she is a young married woman, and not a ma* 
Iron. It is only when Ada " comes out" that her office 
commences. She must then in society be an appendage 
lo her daughter, and forget herself. But in the evening 



96 



THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. 



party and the dinner-party she takes a higher place, 89«l 
in fact the highest, and whether as guest or host, it is to 
her that the most respect is shown : she has a right to it, 
and it is her duty to keep it up. Still the matron appears 
mere in her relation to her children than any other posi 
den. and in this her place in society is one that demand 
eare. Great as her pride may be in her family, she has 
no right to be continually asserting their superiority to all 
other young people. This is particularly remarkable in 
her treatment of her grown-up sons : and a mother should 
remember that when fully Stedged, the young birds can 
take care of themselves. She has no right to tie them to 
her apron-string, and her fondness becomes foolish when 
she fears that poor Charles will catch cold at eight-and- 
twenty, or shrieks after James, because he will stroll 
away to his club. But when she assumes the dress and 
airs of youth, she becomes ridiculous. When once she 
has daughters presentable, she must forget to shine her- 
self : she should never, even if a widow, risk being her 
daughter's rival, and her conduct to young men must be 
that of a mother, rather than of a friend. 

It is very different in France, where the married woman 
is par excellence the woman jf society, no matter what 
her age. But in England, the bearing of the married 
woman with grown-up children must be the calm dignity 
and affability of the matron. The French have a pro- 
verb. " Faire la cour d la ra re pour avoir la fills and 
I should strongly recommend the young man who wished 
to succeed with a damsel, to show particular at tent ons to 
ber mamma. A mother indeed does not expect you to 
leave her daughter's side in order to talk to her : but be 
sure that such an act gains you much more good will thaB 



THE rOUNfl MARRIED MAN. 



all the pretty speeches you could have made in that time 
to the daughter. And it is only kind too. As I have 
said, the mother's and chaperon's position is secondary 
when the daughter or protegee is present, at least in Eng- 
land ; but a good-natured man will take care that she docs 
not feel it to be so. A good girl is always pleased to sec 
proper respect and attention shown to her mother ; and 
when at breakfast the next morning, mamma says, c< My 
dear, I like Mr. Jones very much ; he is a well-bred and 
agreeable young man ; I recommend you to cultivate 
him." And when Arabella exclaims, u Oh, mamma, the 
idea ! Mr. Jones indeed !" you may be sure the maternal 
praise is not lost upon her, and the idea is precisely one 
that she will allow to return to her mind. One of the 
most fattening dishes on which Master .Cupid feeds, is that 
game praise bestowed by others. But whether you have 
an eye to Arabella or not, the chaperon ought not to be 
neglected. 

Now, what part young Benedict shall take in society • 
depends on his young wife. If she be wise, she will not 
fret when he dances with pretty girls, and if he be kind 
he will not let the dance lead him into a flirtation. But 
Benedict may go everywhere, and need not sigh over the 
days of his celibacy. Only he must remember, that while 
he has gained some privileges, he has lost others. In the 
meetings of the young, for instance, he is less wanted than 
Gcelebs, while since he cannot be invited without his wife, 
he can no longer expect to fill the odd seat at dinner. Oh 
the other hand, he takes precedence of the bachelor, and 
is naturally a man of more weight, so that when he has 
passed his head under the yoke, he must be calmer more 
sober, less frivolous, though not less lively than he was m 
6 



98 



THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. 



the old " chambers' ' days. A great deal is forgiven te 
C celebs on account of his position. If he talks nonsense 
occasionally, it is his high spirits ; if he dances incessant- 
ly the whole evening, it is that he may please " thoss 
Jear girls ;" if he dresses au point de vice now and then^ 
: le is Olaudio in love, lying sleepless for the night, " carv- 
ing out a new doublet ;" if he hurries to the drawing- 
room after dinner, or is marked in his attention to ladies, 
tie is only on his promotion ; and if he has a few fast 
lounging habits, " it is all very well for the boys," says 
Paterfamilias, and in short, " a young fellow like that" 
jaay do a thousand things that Benedict the married man 
Miust abstain from. Greater than any change, however, 
is that of his relations to his own sex. Some married 
men throw all their bachelor friends overboard, when they 
take that fair cargo for which they have been sighing so 
long : but I would not be one of such a man's friends. 
At the same time, I must expect to see less of Benedict 
than before. " Adieu the petit souper" he murmurs, 
u the flying corks, the chorused song, the trips to Rich- 
mond and Greenwich, the high clog-cart, and the seat or 
the box of my friend's drag ! Adieu the fragrant weed, 
the cracking hunting-whip, the merry bacheloi -dinner, 
and the late hours ! Shall I sigh over them ? No, in- 
deed ! Mrs. Jones is not only an ample compensation foi 
such gaieties, but I am thankful to her for keeping me 
from them. Why, that little baby-face of hers, that pouta 
so prettily for a kiss when I come home, is worth a hun- 
dred dozens of champagnes, a thousand boxes of Hudson's 
best, and a score of the longest runs after reynard we 
ever had." Yes, Benedict I envy thee, and if Beatrice 
l>e wise, <*he will &vt draw the reins too tight all at once; 



V 



THE BACHELOR 



99 



snil whatever she may say to hunting, she will see no 
harm in a mild havana and a couple of bachelor friends 
to dinner now and then. But Benedict has not only 
changed his manner and his habits, he has got new duties, 
nd where his wife goes he may go, and ought to go 
le can no longer claim exemption from solemn dinners 
from weary muffin-worries, and witless tea-parties. On 
the other hand, he will never be made use of, and his 
wife will furnish a ready excuse for refusing invitations 
which he had better not accept. Lastly, the young mar* 
ried man should never assume the gravity of Paterfamilias 
and though he is promoted above Coelebs, he will take 
care not to snub him. 

What a happy man is Coelebs ! The more I sit in my 
club-window the more I feel convinced of this. It is true 
that I have never been married, and therefore know nothing 
of the alternative, but will make vou a little confession, 
priestly reader — I have been once or twice very near it. 
Free from incumbrance, Coelebs is as irresponsible as a 
butterfly ; he can choose his ow r n society, go anywhere, 
do anything, be early or late, gay or retired, mingle with 
men or with ladies, smoke or not, wear a beard or cut it 
off, and, if he likes, part his hair down m the middle, 
What a happy man is Coelebs ! free and independent as ho 
is, he is as much courted as a voter at an election ; he is 
for ever being bribed by mammas and feasted by papas ; 
nothing is complete without him ; he is the wit at the din-" 
ner, the " life" of the tea-fight, an absolute necessity hi 
the ball-room, a sine qua non at f te and pic nic, and wel- 
come everywhere. Indeed, I don't know what society cm 
do without him. The men want hrm for their parties, the 
ladies, I suppose I must not say. "still more" for theirs 



100 



TUB SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. 



The old like him because he is young, the young like him 
because he is not old ; and in short he is as much a neces- 
sity as the refreshments, and must be procured somehow 
or other. Then, too, if he does not care for these things 
lie can come and sit here in the club- window : or he can 
travel, which Benedict seldom can ; or he can take an oc- 
cupation or an art, while the married man has no choice, 
and must work, if he work at alL to keep quiet the 
mouths of those blessed cherubim in the perambulator. 

But that which makes Coelebs a happy man is, that he 
lan enjoy society so much. If it be the bachelor-party ; 
he is not there against his conscience with fear of a Cau- 
dle lecture to spoil his digestion. If it is among ladies, 
he has* the spice of galanterie to curry his conversation 
with, and as for dancing, he at least enjoys it as an intro- 
duction to flirtation. But perhaps his greatest privilege 
is the power of filling in love, for as long as that power 
lasts — which, heigh-ho ! is not for ever — there is no inno- 
cent pleasure which is greater. But Coelebs has not 
always the privilege of falling out of love again, and if 
the married man has a wife to look after his doings, the 
bachelor is watched by chaperons, and suspected by papas 
Poor Coelebs, do not leave the matter too late ; do not say, 
'* Hang me in a bottle like a cat, and shoot at me," if ever 
I lose my heart. Believe me, boy, the passion must be 
enjoyed when young. When you come to my age, Cupid 
won't waste an arrow on you, and if he did so, it would 
only make you ridiculous. Yes, the young bachelor is a 
happy man, but the old bachelor — let me stop, if I once 
begin on that theme, I shall waste three quires of paper, 
md tire yom out. But if much is allowed to Coeleba 



THE YOUNG LADY. 



101 



much is expected of him. He has not tae substance of 
Benedict to back him up, not the respectability of wedded 
life, not the charms of his young wife to make amends 
for his deficiencies. The young bachelor is more than anj? 
man a subject for the laws of etiquette. Less than any 
will he be pardoned for neglecting them. He has no ex- 
cuse to offer for their non-observance. He must make 
himself useful and agreeable, must have accomplishments 
for the former, and talents for the latter, and is expected 
to show attention and respect to both sexes and all ages. 

Happier still is the young lady, for whom so many al- 
lowances are made, and who, in society, is supposed to do 
nothing wrong. To her the ball is a real delight, and the 
evening party much more amusing than to any one else. 
On the other hand, she must not frequent dinner-parties 
too much, particularly if she is very young, and in all 
cases she must consider modesty the prettiest ornament ahe 
can wear. She has many privileges, but must beware how 
she takes advantage of them. To the old her manner must 
always be respectful and even affectionate. If she lacks 
beauty, she will not succeed without conversational pow- 
ers ; and if she has beauty, she will soon find that wit is 
a powerful rival. With the two she may do what she 
will ; all men are her slaves. She must, however, have 
a smile as well, for every person and every occasion. 
Dignity she seldom needs, except to repel familiarity, 
Without a good heart her mind and her face will only 
draw envy and even dislike upon her. In England, tho 
young lady is queen ; in France, the young married woman 
takes her place ; and though society can do without her, 
there is, in my opinion, no more charming compamon than 



102 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. 



a young married woman. She has left off nonsense, and 
forgotten flirtation, and she has gained from the compan- 
ionship of her husband a certain strength of mind, which, 
tempered by her modest dignity, enables her to broach 
almost any subject with a man. She is at home every 
where, may dance in the ball-room, and talk at the dinnei 
table, and the respect due to her position enables her to 
be more free in ner intercourse without fear of remark 
In short, if a man wishes for sensible conversation, with 
gentleness and beauty to lend it a charm, he must look 
for it in young married women. 

Of the elderly unmarried lady — for of course there ig 
no such thing as an " old maid" — I decline, from a feeling 
of delicacy, to say anything. 

I shall conclude this jA^ce de resistance with a few part- 
ing remarks on the art of making one's self agreeable. I 
take it that the first thing necessary is to be in goof 1 , spirits, 
or at least in the humor for society. If you have any 
grief or care to oppress you. and have not the strength of 
will to throw it off. you do yourself an injustice by enter- 
ing the society of those who meet for mutual entertain- 
ment. Nay, you do them too a wrong, for you risk be- 
coming what is commonly known as a " damper." The 
next point is to remember that the mutual entertainment 
in society is obtained by conversation. For this you re- 
quire temper, of which I have already spoken ; confidence, 
of which I shall speak elsewhere; and appropriateness, 
* bijsL has been treated under the head of "Conversation." 
I have already said, that that man is the most agreeable 
to talk to, who thinks out of society as well as in it It 
*ill be necessary to throw off all the marks and feelings 



THE AKT OF MAKING ONE'S-SELF AvJREEaBLE, 10i 



of your profession and occupation, and surround yourself, 
so to speak, with a purely social atmosphere. You must 
remember that society requires equality, real or apparent 
and that all professional or official peculiarities militate 
f against this appearance of equality. You must, in the 
I aame way, divest yourself of all feeling of superiority or 
inferiority in rank, birth, position, means, or even acquire 
ments. You must enter the social ranks as a private. 
If you earn your laurels by being agreeable, you will, in 
time, get your commission. Having made this mental 
preparation, having confidence without pride, modesty 
without shyness, ease without insolence, and dignity with- 
out stiffness, ycu may enter the drawing-room, and see in 
what way you may best make yourself agreeable. 

The spirit with which you must do so is one of general 
kindliness and self-sacrifice. You will not, therefore, select 
the person who has the most attractions for you, so much 
as any one whom you see neglected, or who, being not quite 
at his or her ease, requires to be talked into confidence. 
On the same principle, you will respect prejudices ; you 
will take care to ascertain them, before coming, on subjects 
on which people feel strongly. Then you will not open a 
conversation with a young lady by abusing High or Low 
Church, nor with an elderly gentleman by an attack on 
Whig or Tory. You will not rail against babies to a mar- 
ried woman, nor sneer at modern literature to a man with 
d beard, for if he is not a Crimean officer, he is sure to be 
ii author. 

In like spirit you will discover and even anticipate th 
wants of others, particularly if you are a man. On first 
acquaintance you will treat every one with particulai 



104 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. 



respect and delicacy, not rushing at once into a familial 
joke, or roaring like a clown. Tour manner will be calm—- 
because if you have no nerves, other people have them— 
and vour voice gentle and low. Oh ! commend me to ai 
agreeable voice, especially in a woman. It is worth unj 
amcunt of beauty. The tone, too, of your conversation 
and style of your manner will vary with the occasion 
While it will be sensible and almost grave at table, it will 
be merry and light at a pic-nic. 

Your attention, again, must not be exclusive. However 
little you may enjoy their society, you will be as attentive 
to the old as to the young ; to the humble as to the grand 
to the poor curate, for instance, as to the M, P. ; to the 
elderly chaperon as to her fair young charge. In this 
manner you not only evince your good-breeding, but often 
do a real kindness in amusing those who might otherwise 
be very dull. On some occasions, particularly when a 
party is heavy and wants life, you will generalize the con- 
versation, introducing a subject in which all can take an 
interest, and turning to them all in general. On the other 
hand, when, as in a small party, the conversation is by 
necessity general, you will particularly avoid talking to 
one person exclusively, or mentioning people, places, or 
things, with which only one or two of them can be ao 
quainted. For instance, if at a morning call there happen 
to be two or three strangers at the same time, it is bad j 
taste to talk about Mr. this or Mr. that. It is far bettes 
to have recourse to the newspapers, which every body i 
supposed to have read, or to public affairs, in which every- 
body can take more or less interest. 

13 ut it is not in your words only that you may offend 



MANNERS. 1 05 

against good taste. Your manners / your personal habits 
your very look even may give offence. These, therefore, 
must not only be studied, but if you have the misfortune 
to be with people who are not accustomed to refined mar* 
neis. and to find that insisting on a particular refinement 
T?i>uld give offence, or cast an imputation on the rest, it is 
always better to waive a refinement than to hurt feelings, 
and it sometimes becomes more ill-bred to insist on one 
than to do without it. For instance, if your host and his 
guest dine without dinner napkins, it would be very bad 
taste to call for one, or if, as in Germany, there be no 
spoons for the salt, you must be content to use your knife 
or fork as the rest do. " To do in Rome as the Roma; s 
do,' r applies to every kind of society. At the same time, 
you can never be expected to commit a serious breach of 
manners because your neighbors do so. You can never 
be called on in America to spit about the room, simply 
because it is a national habit. 

But what you should do, and what not, in particular 
cases, you will learn in the following chapters. I have 
only now T to say, that if you wish to be agreeable, which 
is certainly a good and religious desire, you must both 
Btudy how to be so, and take the trouble to put your studies 
into constant practice. The fruit you will soon reap. You 
will be generally liked and loved. The gratitude of those 
o whom you have devoted yourself will be shown ia 
Speaking well of you ; you will become a desirable addi 
ion to every party, and whatever your birth, fortune, o 
position, people will say of you, " He is a most agreeable 
and well-bred man " and be glad to introduce you to good 
society. But you will reap a yet better reward. Yoir 
5* 



108 



THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. 



hare in yourself the satisfaction of having taken trouble 
and made sacrifices in order to give pleasure and happiness 
for the time to others. How do vou know what grief ox 
care you may not obliterate, what humiliation you maj 
not alter to confidence, what anxiety you may not soften 
what— last, but really not least — what intense dullnes, 
you may not enliven ? If this work assist you in becora 
ing an agreeable member of good society, I shall rejoice 
at the labor it has given me. 



I 



PART I -THE INDIVIDUAL, 



CHAPTER I 

INSIDE THE DRESSING-ROOM. 

There are several passages in Holy Writ which have 
been shamefully, I may almost say, ludicrously misapplied. 
Thus when we want a scriptural authority for making as 
rr uch money as possible in an honest way, we quote St. 
Paul, "Not slothful in business," forgetting that the 
\sord " business" had once a far wider meaning, and that 
the Greek, for which it is placed, means really " zeal," 
that is, in God's work- But the most impudent appro- 
priation is that of cleanliness being next to godliness, and 
the apostle is made to affirm that if you cannot be reli- 
gious, you should at least w T ear a clean shirt. Of course 
a reference to the Greek would show in a moment tha 
purity of mind and heart are meant, and that " cleanli- 
ness" was once the proper English for 11 purity." 

Though we have no right to claim scriptural authority 
foi soap and water, we cannot agree with Thomas of Ely, 
who tells us that Queen Ethelreda was sc clean of heart 
as to need no washing of the body ; nor oan we belie va 
fchat the loftiness of Lady Mary Wortley Montague's sen- 
timents at all replaced the brush and comb, towel and b& 

(101) 



103 



INSIDE THE DRESSING-ROOM. 



sin. co which tne liveliest woman of her day had such a 
strange aversion It was she who 3 when some one said k 
her at the opera, ,; How dirty your hands are, my lady!" 
she replied with naive indifference, "What would you 
Bay if you saw my feet?" 

Genius, love, and fanaticism, seem partial to dirt 
Every one knows what a German philosopher looks like, 
and Worth er showed his misery by wearing the same coal 
and appendices for a whole year. As to the saints, they 
were proud of their unchanged flannel, and the monk was 
never made late tor matins by the intricacy of his toilet. 
St. Simeon of the Pillar is an instance of the common 
opinion of his day. that far from cleanliness being next 
to godliness, the nearest road to heaven is a remarkably 
dirty one. Perhaps, however, he trusted to the rain to 
cleanse him, and he was certainly a user of the shower- 
bath, which cannot be said of many a fine gentleman. 
Religion, however, is not always accompanied with neglect 
~t the person. The Brahman bathes twice a day, and 
. siises his mouth seven times the first thing in the morn- 
m& It is strange that Maim, while enumerating the 
pollutions of this world, should have made the exception 
of a woman's mouth, which he tells us is always clean, 
Probably the worthy old Hindu was partial to osculation, 
but it is certain that there can be no Billingsgate in India 

In the beginning of the present century, it was thought 
proper for a gentleman to change his under garment three 
times a day, and the washing bill of a beau comprised 
seventy shirts, thirty cravats, and pocket-handkerchiefs 

nscr lion. TVkat would Brummell say to a college chum 
i mine who made a tour through Wales with but one 
flannel shirt in his knapsack? The former's maxim was 



CLEANLINESS* 



109 



* linen of the finest quality, plenty of it, and countrj 
washing." Fine linen has always been held in esteem, 
but it did not save Dives. 

Cleanliness is a duty to one's self for the sake oi health 
and to one's neighbor for the sake of agreeableness Dim- 
ness is decidedly unpleasant to more than one of the 
senses, and a man who thus offends his neighbor is not 
free from guilt, though he may go unpunished. But ii 
these reasons were not sufficient, there is another foi 
stronger than both. St. Simeon Stylites may have pre- 
served a pure mind in spite of an absence of ablutions, 
but we must not lose sight of the influence which the 
body has over the soul, an influence, alas, for man ! some- 
times far too great. We are convinced that bad personal 
habits have their effect on the character, and that a m^zi 
who neglects his body, which he loves by instinct, will 
neglect far more his soul, which he loves only by com~ 
inand. 

There is no excuse for BrummelPs taking more than 
two hours to dress. It was in his case mere vanity, and 
he was — and was content to be — one of the veriest show- 
things in the world, as useless as the table ornaments on 
which he wasted the money he was not ashamed to take 
from his friends. On the other hand, when a young lady 
assures me that she can dress in ten minutes, I feel con- 
fident that the most important part of the toilet must be 
neglected. The morning toilet means more than a mere 
putting on of clothes, whatever policemen and French 
concierges may think. 

The first thing to be attended to after rising is the bath. 
The vessel which is dignified, like a certain part of lady's 
dress, with a royal Order, is one on which folios might 



110 INSIDE THE DRESSIKG-ROOM. 

be written. It has given a name to two towns — Bath mh 
Baden — renowned for their toilets, and it is all that is left 
m three continents of Roman glory. It is a club-room Id 
Germany and the East, and was an arena in Greece and 
Rome. It was in a bath that the greatest destroyer of 
life had his own destroyed, when he had bathed all Francf 
in blood. But Clarence, I am convinced, has been much 
maligned. He has been called a drunkard, and people 
shudder at his choosing that death in which he could not 
but die in sin ; but for my part, so far as the Malmsey is 
concerned, I am inclined to think that he only showed 
himself a gentleman to the last. He was determined to 
die clean, and he knew, like the Parisian ladies — which 
we should perhaps spell la'ides — who sacrifice a dozen of 
champagne to their morning ablutions, that wine has a 
peculiarly softening effect upon the skin. Besides Cham- 
pagne, the exquisites of Paris use milk.* which is sup- 
posed to lend whiteness to the skin. The expense of this 
luxury is considerably diminished by an arrangment with 
the milkman, who repurchases the liquid after use. I 
need scarcely add, that in Paris I learned to abjure cafe 
ati lait, and to drink my tea simple. 

The bath deserves an Order, and its celebrity. It is of 
all institutions the most unexceptionable. Man is an am- 
phibious animal, and ought to pass some small portion of 
each day in the water. I«l fact, a large, if not the larger 
proportion of diseases arises from leaving the pores of^ 
the skin closed, whether with natural exudation or mat 
ter fiom without, alias dirt. It is quite a mistake to 



♦The Ute Duke of Queensbury had his milk-bath every day It if 
lapx*?^ U nourish as well as whiten and soften the skin. 



THE BATH. 



Ill 



suppose, and tl j idea niust at once be done away with, 
that one is to wash because one is dirty. We wash be- 
cause we wear clothes : in other words, because we are 
obliged to remove artificially what would otherwise escape 
by evaporation. We wash again, because we are never in 
a state of perfect health, although with care we might be 
so. Were our bodies in perfect order — as the Sweden- 
borgians inform us that those of the angels are — we 
should never need washing, and the bath would chill 
rather than refresh us, so that, perhaps, man is by neces- 
sity and degradation — not by destination — an amphibious 
creature. 

However this may be, we must not suppose, because a 
limb looks clean, that it does not need washing, and how- 
- ever white the skin may appear, we should use the bath 
once a day at least, and in summer, if convenient, twice. 

The question now arises, What kind of a bath is best ? 
and it must be answered by referring to the person's 
constitution. If this is weak and poor, the bath should 
be strengthening ; but at the same time it must be remem- 
bered, that while simple water cleanses, thicker fluids are 
apt rather to encumber the skin, so that a tonic bath is not 
always a good one. This is the case with the champagne, 
milk, mud, snake, and other baths, the value of which en- 
tirely depends on the peculiar state of health of the patient 
so that one person is cured, and another killed by them 
The same is to be said of sea-bathing, and the commoi;- 
bath even must be used with reference to one's condition. 

The most cleansing bath is a warm one from 96* te 
100°, into which the whole body is immersed. If cleans- 
ing alone be the aim, the hotter the water the better, up 
to 108°. It expands the pores, dives well into them 



112 



INSIDE THE DRESSING-ROOM. 



and increases the circulation for the time beii*g. Bui 
since it is an unnatural agent, it exhausts the physical 
powers, and leaves us prostrate. For health therefore, 
it should be sparingly indulged in, except in persons of 
rapid and heated circulation. Even with such, it should 
be used with discretion, and the time of remaining in the 
bath should never exceed a few minutes. 

The cold bath of from 60° to 70°, on the other hand, 
cleanses less, but invigorates more. It should therefore 
be avoided by persons of full temperament, and becomes 
reallv dangerous after eating, or even after a long rest 
following a heavy meal. If you have supped largely 
over night, or been foolish, perhaps I may say wrong 
enough, to drink more than your usual quantity of stim- 
ulating liquids, you should content yourself with passing 
a wet sponge over the body. 

A tepid bath, varying from 85° to 95°, is perhaps the 
safest of all, but we must not lose sight of health in the 
desire for comfort. The most healthy, and one of the 
handsomest men I ever saw, and one who at sixty had not 
a single grey hair, was a German, whose diet being mod- 
erate, used to bathe in running water at all seasons, 
breaking the ice in winter for his plunge. Of the shower 
bath, I will say nothing, because I feel, that to recom- 
mend it for general use, is dangerous, while for such a 
work as this, which does not take health as its main sub- 
ject it would be out of place to go into the special cases. 

Tlie best bath for general purposes, and one which cue 
dc little harm 3 and almost always some good, is a sponge 
bath It should consist of a large flat metal basin, some 
four feet in diameter, filled with cold water. Such a ves- 
sel may be bought for about fifteen shillings. A largf 



THE BAxfl. 118 

coarse sponge-— the coarser the better — will cost another 
five or seven shillings, and a few Turkish towels, com- 
plete the " properties." The water should be plentiful 
and fresh, that is, brought up a little while before the 
jhath is to be used ; not placed over night in the bed-room. 
' Let us wash and be merry, for we know not how soon the 
supply of that precious article which here costs nothing 
may be cut off. In many continental towns they buy 
their water, and on a protracted sea voyage the ration is 
often reduced to half a pint a day for all purposes, so 
that a pint per diem is considered luxurious. Sea-water, 
we may here observe, does not cleanse and a sensible man 
who bathes in the sea will take a bath of pure water im- 
mediately after it. This practice is shamefully neglected, 
and I am inclined to think, that in many cases a sea-bath 
will do more harm than good without it, but if followed 
by a fresh bath, cannot but be advantageous. 

Taking the sponge bath as the best for ordinary pur- 
poses, Ave must point out some rules in its use. The 
sponge being nearly a foot in length, and six inches broad, 
must be allowed to fill completely with water, and the 
part of the body which should be first attacked is the 
stomach. It is there that the most heat has collected 
during the night, and the application of cold water quick- 
ens the circulation at once, and sends the blood which has 
been employed in digestion round the whole body. The 
!iead should next be soused, unless the person be of full 
habit w r hen the head should be attacked before the feet 
touch the cold water at all. Some persons use a small 
hand shower bath, which is less powerful than the com- 
mon shower bath, and docs almost as much good. The 
iifle of soap in the morning bath is an open question. J 



U4 



INSIDE THE DRESSING— KC OM. 



confbss a preference for a rough towel or a hair glove 
Brummell patronized the latter, and applied it for nearlj 
a quarter of an hour every morning. 

The ancients followed up the bath by anointing the 
body, and athletic exercises. The former is a mistake, 
the latter an excellent practice shamefully neglected ii 
the present day/ It would conduce much to health md 
strength if every morning toilet comprised the vigorous 
use of the dumb-bells, or, still better, the exercise of the 
arms without them. The best plan of all is, to choose 
some object in. your bedroom on which to vent your hatred, 
and box at it violently for some ten minutes, till the 
perspiration covers you. The sponge must then be again 
applied to the whole body. It is very desirable to remain 
without clothing as long as possible, and I should therefore 
recommend that every part of the toilet which can con- 
veniently be performed withou: dressing, should be so. 

The next duty, then, must be to clean the Teeth. 
Dentists are modern inquisitors, but their torture-rooms 
are meant only for the foolish. Everybody is born with 
good teeth, and everybody might keep them good by a 
proper diet, and the avoidance of sweets and smoking. 
Of the two the former are perhaps the more dangerous. 
Nothing ruins the teeth so soon as sugar in one's tea, and 
highly sweetened tarts and puddings, and as it is le pre- 
?nier pas qui coute, these should be particularly avoided in 
childhood. When the teeth attain their full growth anJ 
strength it takes much more to destroy either Jie'r eii 
amel or their substance. 

It is upon the teeth that the effects of excess are first 
seen, and it is upon the teeth that the odor of the breath 
depends What is more repulsive than a woman's smile 



THE TEETH 



116 



discovering a row of black teeth, unless it be the rani 
smell of the breath ? Both involve an offence of your 
neighbor's most delicate senses, and neither can therefore 
be pardoned, If I may not say that it is a Christian duty 
to keep your teeth clean, I may at least remind you that 
jrou cannot be thoroughly agreeable without doing sc 
Ladies particularly must remember that men love witb 
their eyes, and perhaps I may add with their noses, and 
that these details do not escape them. In fact, there are 
few details in women that do escape their admirers, and if 
Brummell broke off his engagement because the young 
lady ate cabbages, there are numbers of men in the pres- 
ent day who would be disgusted by the absence of refine- 
ment in such small matters as the teeth. Let words bp 
what they may, if they come with an impure odor, they 
cannot please. The butterfly loves the scent of the rose 
more than its honey. 

The beau just mentioned used a red root, which is of 
oriental origin. It is not so penetrating as a good hard 
tooth-brush, with a lather of saponaceous tooth-powder 
upon it. The Hindus, who have particularly white teeth, 
use sticks of different woods according to their caste ; bu 4, 
perhaps a preparation of soap is the best thing that can be 
employed. The teeth should be well rubbed inside as well 
as outside, and the back teeth even more than the front. 
The mouth should then be rinsed, if not seven times, ac- 
cording to the Hindu legislator, at least several times, 
rith fresh cold water. This same process should be re» 
peatod several times a day, since eating, smoking, and sc 
forth, naturally render the teeth and mouth dirty more oi 
less, and nothing can be so offensive, particularly to ladies, 
whose sense of smell seems to be keener tkrn that of the 



116 



INSIDE THE DRESSING-ROOM. 



other sex, and who can detect at your first approacV 
whether you have been drinking or smoking. But if onlj 
for your own comfort, you should brush your teeth boti 
morning and evening, which is quite requisite for the pre- 
servation of their soundness and color; while if you are 
tc mingle with others, they should be brushed, or at least 
the mouth well rinsed after every meal, still more after 
smoking, or drinking wise, beer or spirits. No amount 
of general attractiveness can compensate for an offensive 
odor in the breath ; and none of the senses is so fine a 
gentleman, none so unforgiving if offended, as that of 
smell. The following reproof was well-merited, if not 
polite. " I have had the wind in my teeth all the way," 
said an Irishman, after a brisk walk on a breezy morn- 
ing, before which he had been indulging his propensity 
to onions. " Well, sir/' replied his friend, who at once 
perceived how he had breakfasted, " I must say that the 
wind had the worst of it." 

The custom of allowing the nails to grow as a proof 
of freedom from the necessity of working, which is most 
absurdly identified with gentility, is not peculiar to China. 
In some parts of Italy the nails of the left hand are never 
cut till they begin to break, and a Lombard of my ac- 
quaintance once presented me a huge nail which he had 
just cut, and which I must do him the justice to say wag 
perfectly white. I admired it, and threw it away, 
" What !" cried he indignantly, " is that the way you re- 
ceive the greatest proof of friendship which a man can 
give you ?" and he then explained to me that in his native 
province the nail held the same place as a lock of hair 
with us. I really doubt which has the preference, and 
whether a Lothario's desk filled with little oily packets cf 



THE NAILS. 



different colored hair is at all more romantic than a bojc 
of beloved finger nails. Certainly there is beauty in a 
long silken tress, the golden tinge reminding us of the 
fair head of some lost child so like its mother's, or in the 
rich dark curl that, in the boldest hour of love, we raped 
frcm her head, who was then so confidently ours, and 
now — What is she now? But even this fancy can take a 
very disagreeable form, and what can we say of an ardent 
hopeless lover whom I once knew, and who I was assured 
gave a guinea to a lady's maid for the stray hairs left in 
her mistress' comb ! 

But though we may not be cultivating our nails either 
to tear a rival's face with, or to confer with a majestic con- 
descension on some importunate admirer, we are not ab- 
solved from paying strict attention to their condition, and 
that both as regards cleaning and cutting. The former is 
best done with a liberal supply of soap on a small nail- 
brush, which should be used before every meal, if you 
would not injure your neighbor's appetite. While the 
land is still moist, the point of a small pen-knife or pair 
of stumpy nail-scissors should be passed under the nails 
so as to remove every vestige of dirt ; the skin should be 
pushed down with a towel, that the white half-moon may 
be seen, and the finer skin removed with the knife or 
scissors. Occasionally the edges of the nails should be 
filed, and the hard skin which forms round the corners of 
them cut away The important point in cutting the naila 
13 tc preserve the beauty of their shape. That beauty 
even in details is worth preserving I have already remark 
ed, and we may study it as much in paring our nails, aa 
in the grace of our attitudes, or any other point. The 
sha, e, then, of the nail should approach as nearly as po* 



118 



INSIDE THE DRESSING-ROOM. 



sible to the oblong. The oriental ladies know this and 
allow the nail to grow to an enormous length, and bend 
down towards the finger. But then they cultivate beauty 
in every detail, for, poor things, they have none but per- 
ianal attractions to depend on ; and they give to the pink 
&ail a peculiar lustre by the little speck of purple henna 1 
just as Parisian beauties pass a line of blue paint under 
the lower eyelash ; perhaps, too, they keep their fingers 
thus well armed to protect themselves from angry pashas, 
cr even — but let us hope not — to spoil the beauty of some 
more favored houri. However this mav be. the length ol 
Ihe nail is an open question. Let it be often cut, but al- 
ways long, in my opinio ). Above all, let it be well cut, 
r*nd never bitten. Had Brummell broken off his engage- 
ment because the young lady bit her nails, I think I could 
not have blamed him. 

Perhaps you tell me these are childish details. Details, 
yes, but not childish. The attention to details is the true 
oign of a great mind, and he who can in necessity consider 
the smallest, is the same man who can compass the largest 
subjects. Is not life made up of details ? Must not the 
artist who has conceived a picture, descend from the dream 
of his mind to mix colors on a palette ? Must not the 
great commander who is bowling down nations and setting 
up monarchies care for the health and cjmfort, the bread 
and beef of each- individual soldier ? I have often seen a 
groat poet, whom I knew personally, counting on his 
fingers the feet of his verses, and fretting with anything 
but poetic language, because he could not get his sense 
into as many syllables. What if his nails were dirty ? 
Let genius talk of abstract beauty and philosophers dog- 
matize on order. If they do not keep their nails clean, I 



CHILBLAINS. 



119 



shall call them both charlatans. The man who really loves 
beauty will cultivate it in everything around him. The 
man who upholds order is not conscientious if he cannot 
observe it in his nails. The great mind can afford to d^- 
?cend to details ; it is only the weak mind that fears to 
be narrowed by them. When Napoleon was at Municl 
he declined the grand four-poster of the Witelsbach family, 
and slept, as usual in his little camp-bed. The power tc 
b$ little is a proof of greatness. 

For the hands, ears, and neck we want something more 
than the bath, and as these parts are exposed and really 
lodge fugitive pollutions, we cannot use too much soap, 
or give too much trouble to their complete purification. 
Nothing is lovelier than a woman's small white shell-like 
ear; few things reconcile us better to earth than thr 
cold hand and warm heart of a friend ; but to complete 
the charm, the hand should be both clean and soft. Warm 
water, a liberal use of the nail-brush, and no stint ot 
soap, produce this amenity far more effectually than 
honey, cold cream, and almond paste. Of wearing gloves 
I shall speak elsewhere, but for weak people who are 
troubled with chilblains, they are indispensable all the 
year round. I will add a good prescription for the cure 
f chilblains, which are both a disfigurement, and one of 
*ne petites mislres of human life. 

" Roll the fingers in linen bandages, sew them up well, 
and dip them twice or thrice a day in a mixture, con- 
sisting of half a fluid ounce of tincture of capsicum, anl 
a flaid ounce of tincture of opium. " 

The person who invented razors libelled Nature, and 
add 3d a fresh misery to the days of man. u Ah !" said 
Diogonea, who would never consent to be shaved, r would 



120 



INSIDE THE DRESSING-ROOM. 



you insinuate that Nature had done better to make yc u a 
woman than a man? ; ' As for barbers, they have always 
been gossips and mischief-makers, and Arkwrigkt, who 
invented spinning by rollers, scarcely redeemed his trade 
from universal dishonor. They have been the evil spirits 
pf great men too, whom they shaved and bearded m their 
private closets. It was a barber who helped the late 
King of Oude to ruin the country he governed ; and it 
was a barber who, at the beginning of the present centu- 
ry, was the bottle-imp of a Bishop of Hereford. Who in 
fact can respect a man whose sole office is to deprive his 
sex of their distinctive feature ? 

It is said that Alexander the Great introduced shaving, 
to prevent his soldiers being caught by the beard by their 
enemies, but the conqueror of Asia must be absolved of 
priority in this iniquitous custom, which he probably 
found prevalent in the countries he invaded. At any 
rate it would appear that the Budhist priests of India 
were ashamed of their locks at least a century before, and 
this reminds me that shaving and fanaticism have always 
gone together. The custom of the clergy wearing a 
womanish face is purely Romanist, and I rejoice to see 
that many a good preacher in the present day is not 
afraid to follow Cranmer and other fathers of our Church 
in wearing a goodly beard. The Romish priests were 
first ordered to shave when transubstantiation was estab- 
lished, from a fear that the beard might fall into the cup 
It is clear that a Protestant chin ought to be well covered 

"Whatever be said of the clergy, the custom of shaving 
came to this country like many other ugly personal habits, 
with the foreign monarchs. As long as we had Planta- 
genets, Tudcrs, and Stuarts on the throne we were men 



THE BEARD. 



12: 



&s to the outward form. William of Orange wai asham- 
ed of that very appendage which it is a disgrace to a 
Mussulman to be without. Peter the Great had already 
proved that barber and barbarian are derived from thf 
same root, by laying a tax on all capillary ornaments. 

In England there ha3 always been a great distinction 
between civil and military men, and this is the only coun- 
try in the world where the latter have been held in such 
dislike, as to compel them to abandon their uniform in 
everyday life. Perhaps it was on this account that ci- 
vilians in general adopted the coutumes of the learned 
professions, lest they should be thought to belong to that 
of the sword. The beard and the rapier went out to- 
gether at the beginning of the last century. In the pres- 
ent day many a young shop-boy joins u the moustache 
movement 7 ' solely with a hope of being mistaken for a 
fc< captain." 

Whatever Punch may say, the moustache and beard 
movement is one in the right direction, proving that men 
are beginning to appreciate beauty and to acknowledge 
that Nature is the best valet. But it is very amusing to 
hear men excusing their vanity on the plea of health, and 
find them indulging in the hideous " Newgate frill" as a 
kind of compromise between the beard and the razor. 
There was a time when it was thought a presumption and 
vanity to wear one's own hair instead of the frightful 
elaborations of the wig-makers, and the false curls which 
^ir Godfrey Kneller did his best to make graceful cn 
3anvas. Who knows that at some future age some Pnn. h 
of the twenty-first century may not ridicule the wearing 
of one's own teeth instead of the dentist's ? At any raw 
Nature knows best, and no man need be ashamed cf shovr- 
6 



122 



INSIDE THE DRESSING-ROOM. 



ing his manhood in the hair of his face. Of razors mi 
shaving therefore I shall only speak from necessity, be- 
cause, until everybody is sensible on this point, they will 
still be used. 

Napoleon shaved himself. " A born king," said he, 
: bus another to shave him. A made king can use his 
Dwn razor." But the war he made on his chin was very 
different to that he made on foreign potentates. He took 
a very long time to effect it, talking between whiles to his 
hangers-on. The great man, however, was right, and 
every sensible man will shave himself, if only as an exer- 
cise of character, for a man should learn to live in every 
detail without assistance. Moreover, in most cases we 
shave ourselves better than barbers can do. If we shave 
at all, we should do it thoroughly, and every morning 
nothing, except a frown and a hay-fever, makes the face 
look so unlovely as a chin covered with short stubble. 
The chief requirements are hot water, a large soft brush 
of badger hair, a good razor, soft soap that will not dry 
rapidly, and a steady hand. Cheap razors are a fallacy. 
They soon lose their edge, and no amount of stropping 
will restore it. A good razor needs no strop. If jou 
can afford it, you should have a case of seven razors, one 
for each day of the week, so that no one shall be too much 
used. There are now much used packets of papers of a 
eertain kind on which to wipe the razor, and which keep 
its edge keen, and are a substitute for the strop. 

J may here remark, that the use of violet-powder aftei 
shaving, now very common among well-dressed men, is 
one that should be avoided. In the first place, it is al- 
most always visible, and gives an unnatural look to the 
fe^e. I know a young lady, who being afflicted with a 



WHISKERS. 



12S 



redness in a feature above the chin, is in the habit of pow- 
dering it. For a long time I thought her charming, bui 
since I made the discovery I can never look at her with- 
out a painful association with the pepper-caster. Violet* 

owder also makes the skin rough, and enlarges the poros 

f it sooner or later. 

Beards, moustaches, and whiskers, have always bees 
most important additions to the face. Italian conspira- 
tors are known by the cut of those they wear ; and it is 
not Ions since an Englishman with a beard was set down 
as an artist or a philosopher. In the present dij literary 
men are much given to their growth, and in that respect 
show at once their taste and their vanity. Let no man 
be ashamed of his beard, if it be well kept and not fantas- 
tically cut. The moustache should be kept within limits. 
The Hungarians wear it so long that they can tie the 
ends round their heads. The style of the beard should 
be adopted to suit the face. A broad face should wear a 
large full one ; a long face is improved by a sharp-pointed 
one. Taylor, the water poet, wrote verses on the vari- 
ous styles, and they are almost numberless. The chief 
point is to keep the beard well-sombed and in neat trim. 

As to whiskers, it is not every man who can achieve a 
pair of full length. There is certainly a great vanity 
about them, but it may be generally said that foppishness 
should be avoided in this as in most other points. Above 
all the whiskers should never be curled, nor pulled out ti 
an absurd length. Still worse is it to cut them close ^vith 
the scissors. The moustache should be neat and not too 
large, and such fopperies as curling the points thereof, or 
twisting them up to the fineness of needles- -though pa- 
tronized by the Emperor of the French — are decidedly i 



L24 



INSIDE THE DRESSING— BOOM. 



proof of vanity. If a man wear the hair on his fac€ 
which nature has given him, in the manner that nature 
distributes it, keeps it clean, and prevents its overgrowth, 
he cannot Jo wrong. If, on the other hand, he applies to 
Marie Coupelle, and other advertisers, because he believes 
[hat " those dear silky whiskers" ' will find favor in tl e 
eyes of the fair, he will, if unsuccessful, waste much 
money — if successful, incur the risk of appearing ridicu- 
lous. All extravagancies are vulgar, because they are 
evidence of a pretence to being better than you are ; but 
a single extravagance unsupported is perhaps worse than 
a numbei together, which have at least the merit of con- 
sistency. If you copy puppies in the half-yard of whis- 
ker, you should have their dress and their manner too 
if you would not appear doubly absurd. 

The same remarks apply to the arrangment of the hah 
in men, which should be as simple and as natural as pos- 
sible, but at the same time a little may be granted to beauty 
and the requirements of the face. For my part I can see 
nothing unmanly in wearin°; lon^; hair though undoubted- 
ly it is inconvenient and a temptation to vanity, wh'le its 
arrangement would demand an amount of time and atten- 
tion which is unworthy of a man. Bat every nation and 
e\ery age has had a different custom in this respect, and 
to this day even in Europe the hair is sometimes worn 
long. The German student is particularly partial to hya- 
cinth .ne locks curling over a black velvet coat; and tho 
peasant of Brittany looks very handsome, if not always 
clean, with his love-locks hanging straight down under a 
broad cavalier hat. Religion has generally taken up the 
matter severely. The old fathers preached and railed 
\gainst wigs, the Calvinists raised an insurrection in Bor 



THE HAIR. 



leaux on the same account, and English Rji.nlheads con* 
signed to an unmentionable place every man who allowed 
his hair to grow according to nature The Romans con 
demned tresses as unmanly, and in France in the middle 
ages the privilege to wear them was confined to royalty 
Our modern custom was a revival of the French revolu- 
tion, so that in this respect we are now republican as well 
as puritanical. 

If we conform to fashion we should at least make the 
best of it, and since the main advantage of short hair is 
its neatness, we should take care to keep ours neat. This 
should be done first by frequent visits to the barber, for 
if the hair is to be short at all it should be very short, 
and nothing looks more untidy than long, stiff, uncurled 
masses sticking out over the ears. If it Curls naturally 
so much the better, but if not it will be easier to keep in 
order. The next point is to wash the head every morning, 
which, when once habitual, is a great preservative against 
cold. I never have more than one cold per annum, and I 
attribute this to my use of the morning bath, and regular 
washing of my head. A pair of large brushes, hard or 
soft, as your case requires, should be used, not to hammer 

he head with, but to pass up under the hair so as to reach 
the roots. As to pomatum, Macassar, and other inven« 
tions of the hairdresser, I have only to say that, if used 
at all, it should be in moderation, and never sufficiently to 
make their scent perceptible in company. Of course the 

rvangment will be a matter of individual taste, but as 
the middle of the hair is the natural place for a parting, 
it is rather a silly prejudice to think a man vain who parts 
his hail in the centre. He is less blamable than one who 
is too lazy to part it at all, and has always the appearanca 
of having iust sot ud. 



12G 



IS SIDE THE DRESSING-ROOM. 



Of wigs and false hair, the subject of satires and sei* 
mons since the days of the Roman emperors. I shall say 
nothing here except that they are a practical falsehood 
which may sometimes be necessary, but is rarely success 
fill Fcr my part I prefer the snows of life's winter to tho 
best made peruke, and even a bald head to an inferior wig. 

When gentlemen wore armor, and disdained the use of 
their legs, an esquire was a necessity ; and we can under- 
stand that, in the days of the Beaux, the word " gentle- 
man" meant a man and his valet. I am glad to say that 
in the present day it only takes one man to make a gentle- 
man, or, at most, a man and a ninth — that is, including 
the tailor. It is an excellent tiling for the character to 
be neat and orderly, and, if a man neglects to be so in his 
room, he is open to the same temptation sooner or later in 
his person. A dressing-case is. therefore, a desideratum. 
A closet to hang up cloth clothes, which should never be 
folded, and a small dressing-room next to the bed-room, 
are net so easily attainable. But the man who throws his 
clothes about the room, a boot in one corner, a cravat in 
another, and his brushes anywhere, is not a man of good 
habits. The spirit of order should extend to everything 
fihout him. 



CHAPTER II. 



THE LADY'S TOILET. 

i?f r,o particular has the present generation >eceme more 
fa&^dious than in what is requisite for the use of ladiei 
in their own dressing-rooms. Essences, powders, pastes 
washes for the hair, washes for the skin, recal the days of 
one's grandmother, when such appurtenances were though* 
essential and were essential : for our great-grandmothers 
were not rigid in points of personal cleanliness ; and it is 
only uncleanliness that requires scents to conceal it, and 
applications to repair its ravages. Our great-grandmoth- 
ers wore powder and pomatum, and had their hair dressed 
three times a week ; going to bed in the cushioned struct- 
ure, after suffering torture for some hours lest they should, 
in the weakness of human infirmity, lean back in their 
chairs. Our great-grandmothers, too, had their white kid 
gloves sewn to the bottom of each sleeve, lest they should 
incur the calamity of a sun-burnt arm. Our great-grand- 
mothers were afraid of cold water, and delicately wiped 
their faces with the corner of a towel no larger than a 
pocket handkerchief. There were those amongst them 
who boasted that they had never washed their faces in 
heir whole span of existence, lest it should spoil their 
complexions, but had only passed a cambric handkerchie' 
over the delicate brow and cheeks, wetted with elder- 
fSower water or rose water. I believe the nearest ap 

(127) 



123 



THE LADY'S TOILET. 



proach to the ablution we now diurnally practise was tin 
bathing their lovely countenances in May-dew. esteemed 
Ike finest thing in the morning for the skin by our belles 
of the last century : so they turned out betimes /a high 
heeled shoes and n glig s. trotted down the old avenues 
of many a patriarchal home to the meadow, and saturat- 
ing their kerchiefs in May-dew, refreshed with it the cheeks 
flushed over-night at quadrille or great cassino, and \sent 
home contented that a conscientious duty had been per 
formed ! 

Nor were they wrong. Some wise fairy of old must 
have inspired the nymph whom she loved with the belief 
in May dew ; tradition handed down the counsel from one 
generation to another, the fairy, or gnome, smiling all the 
while as she saw the lovely procession of the squires' young 
daughters steal out and bend down amid the butter-cups 
and ladies' -smock in the meadow : she smiled, and. as she 
smiled, wafted to them good health, good spirits, and their 
type — bloom. She had induced them by a stratagem — 
Heaven pity her pious fraud ! — to take a preliminary step 
to beauty and its preservation : she had beguiled them into 
early rising. 

For. gentle ladies, you mav wash, may bathe your forma 
and faces, curl your locks, and shake out your crinoline ; 
use every essence Atkinson has. wherewith to arrest the 
attention of wistful passers-by : you may walk by the 
hour, eat by rule, take beauty-sleep before midnight, yet, 
if you are very long after the 

" Sanguine sunrise with his meteor eyes' 5 * 
fi coming out and abroad from your chambers, youth wiU 



* Shelley. 



EARLY RISING. 



129 



not stay with you out his time, but, Lke an ill-behaved 
apprentice, will break his indentures, and vow that ho can- 
not abide with you. It is true that rules for habitual early 
rising cannot be laid down for every one, without especial 
reference to other habits; very early rising, after late 
parties, or great fatigue on the previous day, or extreme 
delicacy of the lungs or throat, might even be pernicious, 
and its use or abuse must be regulated by the physician. 
In those cases the advice that is now given is for persons 
in an ordinary condition of health, For them, and even 
with some exceptions for invalids, there can be no habit of 
the day or life so important, as far a3 good looks are con- 
cerned, as early rising. All other animals whose health 
is of importance to man are forced to rise early. The 
horse, on whose good condition his beauty, and therefore 
his value depends, is exercised as early as possible. Our 
cattle on the uplands scent the morning breeze as it brings 
the odors of the woodbine ; the little house-dog pants till 
he can rush forth from the pent-up heated chamber to the 
fresh lawn ; and why is this obvious law of nature of so 
great importance to these objects of preference or of value ? 
The morning air is more strengthening, has a great pro- 
portion of oxygen, be it replied, than any other breeze 
that refreshes us by day, or when " the pale purple even'' 
warns us that our enjoyment of its delicious sensations are 
not devoid of danger. No one catches cold in the morn- 
ing air, at least with the ordinary prudence of sufficient 
clothing. Fortified by sleep, the change of atmosphere is 
most salubrious. To the careless and happy, what can be 
more delightful than to feel all the freshness of nature 
frothing every sense, whilst the great world and its inter- 
ests and troubles is silent and slumbers ? And it is thia 
6* 



180 



IX SIDE HIE P£E$^G-R00M. 



fresh breeze this emancipation from the pent-u) chamber, 
this reviving influence, that combine to form a restorative, 
such as neither medicine nor regimen can offer : that pre* 
serves looks, appetite for food, and bloom and delicacy of 
complexion. 

An aged clergyman who had known not one day's ill 

ness was asked his secret : " Dry feet and early rising, 5 '' 
was his reply: " these are my only two precautions." 

With regard then to what a French author calls "a 
whole Cyclopaedia of narcotics, " young women forget that 
there is no royal road to health and beauty. They must 
take the right path if they wish to reap the reward. No 
person in good health should remain in bed after seven 
o'clock, or half-past seven, in the spring and summer , 
that may. in the present century, when the daughters of 
England are reproached with self-indulgence, be termed 
early rising. She may then be down stairs at eight, and 
without taking a long and fatiguing walk, saunter in the 
garden a little : or. if in a large town, have time to prac- 
tise, supposing that the opportunity of going out into the 
air is denied. By this means, that vigor which is the very 
soul of comeliness, the absence of hurry and the sense of 
self-reproach incurred by late rising, and the hunger felt 
for breakfast, will all conduce to arrest Time, as she hovers 
over his wholesale subjects, and to beguile him into sparing 
that process with his scythe by which he furrows the broT* 
of the indolent with wrinkles, whilst he colors the pool 
victim, at the same time, with his own pet preparation 
of saffron 

Suppose then that this first and vital standing order foi 
the toilet be stringent, and that refreshed, and therefore 
energetic, buoyant, and conscious of one duty being at ieasf 



CLEANLINESS ANL EXERCISE. 



131 



performed, the lady leaves her bed and j repares to vlress 
L. E. L. used to say, for she was no early riser, that <c w« 
begin every day with a struggle and a sacrifice." But the 
struggle is soon changed by habit into an eager desire te 
get up; and the sacrifice, to the habitual early riser, is to 
be in bed. She rises : if in summer, throws open the 
window for a quarter of an hour, whilst the bath is being 
prepared, then closes it again, until the ablutions are com- 
pleted. The nature of these must be guided in a great 
measure by the general health. Of all bracing processes, 
to a sound constitution, that of the shower-bath is the 
greatest. It should be used however only with the sanc- 
tion of the physician. The nervous energy is invigorated 
by it, the digestion, a great desideratum for the complexion, 
is improved ; the balance of circulation between the viscera 
and skin is maintained ; and taking cold, that enemy of 
the graces, rheums, catarrhs, and sore throats are kept 
off ; swelling glands are prevented, and the whole powers 
of the frame increase. But, since the reaction is not in 
some delicate constitutions sufficient to make the use of 
the shower-bath desirable, the hip-bath, half filled with 
tepid water at first, and with cold afterwards, or the spong 
ing bath, are admirable modifications of the shower-bath. 
Thus fortified, the lady who has courage to conquer a 
ahower-bath, or to plunge mto a hip-bath, can face the 
morning air, and go forth with the self-earned coat-of- 
nail, as a defence against all that ugly family of catarrhal 
flections. 

We now come to the toilet-table. This, in a lady's as 
well as in a gentleman's room, should be always neatly 
Bet out, and every article placed where it can be most con- 
veniently used. In former times, vast expense used to b$ 



132 



THE LADY'S TOILET. 



bestowed on china, and even on gold and silver toilet- 
services; then came the war, and the national poverty, 
and those luxurious appliances were let down, if not aban- 
doned. We have now resumed them with a degree of ex« 
pense that is hardly wise or consistent. The secrets of 
the toilet were, indeed, no fancied mysteries in forme t 
days. Until the first twenty years of this century had 
passed away, many ladies of bon ton thought it necessary, 
in order to complete their dress, to put a touch of rouge 
on eithsr cheek. The celebrated Mrs. Fitzherbcrt wag 
rouged to the very eyes ; those beautiful deep blue eyes 
of hers. The old Duchess of R — enamelled, and usually 
fled from a room when the windows were opened, as the 
compound, whatever formed of, was apt to dissolve and 
run down the face. Queen Caroline (of Brunswick) was 
rouged fearfully; her daughter, noble in form, fair but 
pale in complexion, disdained the art. Whilst th«c rouged 
ladies might have sung or said, 

" We are blushing roses, 
Bending with our fulness," 

that gifted and lamented princess might have mswered, 

11 We are lilies fair, 

The flower of virgin light, 
Nature held us forth, and said, 

Lo ! • my thoughts of white ' ** * 

An i it was certainly remarkable that after the Princess 
Charlotte's introduction at Court, rouge, which had l>ee^ 
the rule, became the exception, and that young people gen* 
wr&lly never used it. 



• Hunt 



ROUGE AND COSMETICS. 



138 



Still there were other means resorted to for attaining 
the whiteness of skin which medical men dread, but which 
is certainly a very striking and beautiful characteristic 
of an English woman. I once knew a lady who was bleJ 
from time to time to keep the marble-like whiteness of 
her complexion ; others, to my knowledge, rub their facet* 
with bread-crumbs as one should a drawing. But, worst 
of all, the use of pearl powder, or of violet powder, has 
been for the last half century prevalent. 

Independent of all sorts of art being unpleasant, nc 
mistake of the fair one is greater than this. She may 
powder, she may go forth with a notion that the pearly 
whiteness of her brow, her neck, will be deemed all her 
own ; but there are lights in which the small deception will 
be visible, and the charm of all coloring is gone when it 
proves to be artificial. We tremble to think what is un- 
derneath. 

There is another inconvenience attached to the use of 
pearl powder, its great unwholesomeness. It checks the 
natural relief of the skin, perspiration ; and though it 
may not always injure the health, it dries up the cuticle, 
and invites as it were age to settle. Yfhere pearl powder 
/ias been made an article of habitual use, wrinkles soon 
require additional layers to fill it up. just as worn out- 
roads have ruts, and must be repaired ; but the macada- 
mising process cannot be applied to wrinkles. 

Still more fatal is the use of cosmetics ; its extrava- 
gance, in the first place, is an evil ; but I treat not of the 
moral question, but of its physical effects. Some women 
spend as much on essences and sweet waters as would 
enable them to take a journey, and thus do more for theii 
looks than all that a bureau full of cosmetics could insure 



134 



THE LADY'S T0ILE1. 



Many an eruptive disease has arisen from the desire to 
make the skin clear ; above all. avoid specifics. Your 
friends are in the habit of saving, such a thins " is good 
for the complexion;*' but remember that complexion is 
the dial of constitution, and that no two constitutions are 
alike. What is salutary in one case, may produce serious 
mischief in another. 

For instance, when abroad a lady who had been very 
much sunburnt was told that cucumbers cut into slices and 
put into cream, produce a decoction that would take off 
the burning effects of the sun. It is. in fact, a remedy 
used by German ladies, who must however have skin3 
differently constituted than ours to bear it. The lady 
used this very powerful specific, and her face was blister- 
ed. Xothing. indeed, but time and cold weather will take 
away the effects of the sun : butter-milk, from its gentle 
acid, has some efficacy on certain skins, but it is a disa- 
greeable remedy. 

The softest possible water ought, however, to be resort- 
ed to in washing the face : and rain-water, filtered, is in- 
comparably the best. Great care should be taken not to 
check perspiration by washing when heated : these are 
precautions consistent with nature, and therefore valuable 
The water should be dashed freely over the face several 
times, and the process be pursued in the middle of the 
day, as well as in the morning and at dinner-time : it is 
true, the face may. without that, be dean all day, but it 
will not be fresh. The Turkish towels now used so much 
are excellent foi wiping, as they do that important opera* 
tion not only thoroughly, but without irritating the skin ; 
the body, on the other hand, should be dried with a coarse 
huckaback^ an article unknown in France, but excellent 



THE TRUE COSMETICS. 



foi promoting quick circulation in the frame after bathing 
To complete, then, the toilet so far as the person is eon* 
corned ; with few or no cosmetics, with nothing but the 
use of soap (the old brown Windsor being still, in spite 
of all modern inventions, far the best for the skin,) tc 
have the water brought in fresh in the morning, as thai 
in the room is seldom, except in winter, really cool, these 
are the simple preservatives of the skin ; which it is very 
easy to injure and irritate, and very difficult to restore to 
a healthy condition. It must, however, be remembered 
that a healthy condition of the skin depends far less on 
external than on internal causes ; and that good health, 
maintained by early rising, and a simple, nutritive diet, is 
the great originator of a clear and blooming complexion. 
In cases of eruption, how T ever, do nothing without good 
advice. Many an eruption which poisons the comfort even 
of the strongest-minded woman, has been fixed beyond 
cure by dabblings of Eau-de-Cologne on the face — thus 
exciting instead of allaying the fiery enemy — milk of 
roses, essences, and cosmetics, whose name is Legiori. 
Such is the effect of desperation on the female mind, that 
it has been even tried whether raw veal cutlets being put 
on the face would not soften and improve the skin ; an act 
of folly which can only be characterized as disgusting. 

Banish, therefore, if free from any cutaneous disease, 
every essence, cosmetic, or sweet- water from your toilet ; 
ftr.d remember that to keep the skin smooth and clean, all 
rubbing and touching should be avoided : fresh air, when 
the heat of the sun is not intense, and pure water, are 
the best and only cosmetics that can be used without pre- 
judice. 

There are many alleviations to eruptive complaints 



136 



THE LADY'S TOILET. 



among the best is a solution of sulphur ; but even this 
should never be resorted to without advice, and in the 
proper proportions In many cases, however, it almost 
immediately removes an eruption, by cooling the skin ; 
oence it will be seen how very injurious are all essences 
with spirit in them, which have a tendency to heat and 
inflammation. 

" Do you want luxuriant hair?" is a question we Bee 
daily in the papers, answered, of course, by a specific. If 
possible, the skin of the head requires even more tender- 
ness and cleanliness than any other portion of the body, 
and is very soon capable of being irritated into disease. 
In respect of this, as of the complexion, people err gene- 
rally, from doing too much. In the first place, the most 
perfect cleanliness must be enjoined ; formerly the use of 
a fine- tooth comb was considered essential, and abroad it 
is still resorted to, and is in some cases salutary. But, in 
general, to the careful brasher the comb is not essential. 
I say the careful brusher, for great harm is often done to 
the hairs by rude, sharp, irregular brus 1 The hairs 

should be separated with a comb, so tha', the head and not 
the hairs be brushed. The brush shouid not be too hard; 
it may slightly redden the skin, but u > more ; the use of 
pomatum should be sparing, and confi led to that of which 
the ingredients are known — marrow s ,nd bear's grease are 
the best, and the former is most eas iy obtained genuine- 
All scents are more or less injurious to the hair, and they 
should be used in the slightest pos sible proportion. To 
wash the roots of the hair from time to time with weak 
vinegar and water, or with a solution of ammonia, cleanses 
it effectually, whilst a yolk of an egg beaten up and mix* 
ed with warm water is excellent for the skin and tuur 



THE HAIR. ] ft 

but it is troublesome to wash out, and must be done by i 
sareful maid. There is no risk, but great benefit, in wash- 
ing even the "luxuriant hair*' of a person in health, if 
done in warm weather, and well dried, or by a fire ; and 
small quantity of ammonia insures from catching cold 
It is quite a mistake to suppose that washing the haii 
makes it coarse ; it renders it glossy and flexible ; the 
washing cools the head, the heat of which is the great 
source of baldness and grey hairs ; it prevents all that 
smell from very thick hair which is detected in persons 
who trust to the brush only ; lastly, it is one of the most 
refreshing personal operations, next to the bath, that can 
be devised. 

A lady's hair should, in ordinary life, be dressed twice 
a day, even if she does not vary the mode. To keep it 
300I and glossy, it requires being completely taken down 
m the middle of the day, or in the evening, according to 
the dinner-hours. The taste in dressing it in the morning 
should be simple, without pins, bows, or any foreign aux- 
iliary to the best ornament of nature. I do hot mean to 
deprecate the use of the pads, as they are called, or sup- 
port? under the hair used at this time, because they super- 
sede the necessity of frizzing, which is always a process 
most injurious to the hair ; but I own I object much to 
the ends of black lace, bows of ribbon, &c, used by many 
you^g women in their morning coiffure ; of course, for 
those past girlhood, and not old enough to wear caj>s. the 
oaac is different. 



CHAPTER III. 



DRESS. 

{ A story, ?? says an eminent writer, 11 is never too old 
to tell, if it be made to sound new." If this be true, I 
may be excused for narrating the following veritable his- 
tory : — In an Indian jungle there once resided a tawny 
jackal, a member, as all those animals are, of a jacka.- 
club which met at night in the said jungle. It was the 
custom for the different subscribers to separate early in 
the evening on predatory excursions, and on one occasion 
the individual in question having dined very sparingly that 
day on a leg of horse, ventured, in hopes of a supper, 
within the precincts of a neighboring town. It happened 
that while employed in the prowling distinctive of hia 
kind, he fell into a sunken vat filled with indigo, and 
when he had contrived to struggle out again, discovered, 
by the light of the moon, that his coat had assumed a 
brilliant blue tinge. In vain lie rolled himself on the 
grass, in vain rubbed his sides against the bushes of the 
jungle to which he speedily returned. The blue stuck to 
him, and so, with the acutenes for which jackals are re- 
□owned, he determined to " stick to*' it. Shame indeed 
would have overcome him, ridicule have driven him tc» 
despair, when he rejoined his club, but for this resolu- 
tion. That very morning he appeared among his kind, 
whisking his tail with glee, and holding his head erect, 
A titter, of course, welcomed him, and, before Ion:, vou 
(138) 



FASHION AND ITS LEADERS, 



139 



^ould have thought that every jackal present hai beer 
turned into a laughing hysena. Our hero was nothing 
abashed. Gentlemen," said he, in the dialect of Hin- 
dustani peculiar to his kind, " I have been to town, and 
bring you the last new fashion." The laughter changei 
to respectful admiration. One by one the members ot 
the club stole up to him and inquired where he had met 
with the coloring, just as George IV. asked Brummell 
what tailor had made that coat. The address was im- 
parted, and if on the following evening not all of the prowl- 
ing beasts appeared in a blue coat, it was only because 
three of them had been drowned in the attempt to pro- 
cure it. 

The fable, which is a real Sanskrit one, will at once re- 
mind us of one concerning that sharp-nosed quadruped 
which farmers denounce, and squires combine to run to 
death. But it has a moral as well as a satirical bearing, 
and we believe that this moral has not been done justice to. 
Fashion is called a despot ; but if men, like the jackals 
and foxes, are willing, nay, eager to be its slaves, we can- 
not, and ought not, to upbraid fashion. Its crowning is, 
in short, nothing more than the confession that vanity 
makes of its own weakness. We must be vain; we are 
weak ; all we ask is to be guided in our vanity. 

The worst of it is, that the man who rebels against 
fashion, is even more open to the imputation of vanity 
than he who obeys it, because he makes himself conspicu- 
ous, and practically announces that he is wiser than his 
kind There cannot be greater vulgarity than an affecta- 
tion of superior simplicity. Between the two it is left to 
the man of sense and modesty only to follow fashion sc fai 
fig not to make himself peculiar by opposing it. 



140 



DRESS. 



Dress and sin came in together, and have kept gooj 
fellowship ever since. If we could doubt, as some have 
done, the authenticity of the Pentateuch, we should have 
to admit that its author was at least the shrewdest ob- 
server of mankind, inasmuch as he makes a love of dress 
the first consequence of the Fail. That it really was so, ! 
we can be certain from the fact that it has always accom- 
panied an absence of goodne - s. The best dressers of every 
age have always been the worst men and women. We do 
not pretend that the converse is true, and that the best 
people have always dressed the worst, Plato was at once 
a beau and a philosopher, and Descartes was the formei 
befure he aspired to be the latter. But the love of dress, 
take it as you will, can only arise from one of tw T o closely 
allied sins, vanity and pride ; and when in excess, as in 
the miserable beaux of different ages, it becomes as ridic- 
ulous in a man as the glee of a South Sea islander over a 
handful of worthless glass beads. No life can be more 
contemptible than one of which the Helicon is a tailor's 
shop, and its paradise the Park ; no man more truly 
wretched than he whose mind is only a mirror of his body, 
and whose soul can fly no higher than a hat or a neck-tie ; 
who strangles ambition with a yard-measure, and suffocates 
glory in a boot, But this puny peacockism always brings 
its own punishment. The fop rums himself by his vanity, 
and ends a sloven, like Goodman, first a well-dressed stu- 
dent of Cambridge, then an actor, then a highwayman, 
who was at last reduced to share a shirt with a fellow- 
fool, and had to keep his room on the days when the other 
wore it. 

But we must not suppose that this vanity lies in the 
following more than in the outraging of fashioD ; and if 



NEW ASD OLD FASHIONS. 



141 



there were no such thing as a universal rule cf dress, we 
may be confident that there would be just as much, if not 
more foppery, where each could dress as he liked. When 
it could not glory in the roll of a coat-collar or the turn 
of a hat-bum, it would show itself in richness of stuffs 
md splendors of ornaments ; and while fashion has to h& 
blamed for many extravagances, the gold chains of one age, 
the huge wigs of another, and the crinoline of a third, 
we must rejoice that it holds so severe a sway over men's 
minds, when we find that at another period it decrees sim- 
plicity, and legislates to put down superfluous ornament. 
The wise man, therefore, who frets at its follies, will at- 
tempt not to subvert, but rather to reform it ; not to teai 
from his throne a monarch elected by universal suffrage, 
who will instantly be reinstated, but to lead him by hia 
own example, and, if possible, by his voice, to make simple 
and sensible enactments. Better a wise despot than a silly 
republic. 

When kings were the ministers of fashion, dress was 
generally costly and showy ; when philosophers were its 
counsellors, it became slovenly and untidy ; and when, aa 
in the present day, it is L> i by private gentlemen and pri- 
vate ladies, it is often absurd a in bad taste, but gener- 
ally tends towards simplicity. It is certainly amusing, 
when looking -back at the history of dress, to see how often 
the story of the blue jackal may be cited. Wigs were in- 
flicted on our forefatners by a bald monarch, and we were 
featured by stiff cravats and high shirt-collars,* because 
*,Q)ther had the king's evil in his neek. Long skirts pro- 
bably came in to hide a pair of ungainly feet, and hoopa 
wtre iiiti oduced to make a queenly waist look smaller tbai3 
»l was. 



142 



DEESS. 



Theie is. however, a difference between the rrerogative 

of fashion and that of other despots. While we are hound 
to yield a general obedience to his laws, we nave the right, 
without a loss of <ast«e. to disregard any which are mani- 
festly absurd and .nconvenient. If. for example, a fashion 
tide of the present day. to whom nature had given an ugly 
foot, were to folbw the example of Fulk. Duke of Anjou 
and introduce such long peaks to our boots that we could 
not walk in them, we may be certain that their use would 
not survive a season, and would be confined to a class who 
have little to do but look ornamental. It is certainly a 
consolation to find that in the present day the fashions of 
male attire are restricted, not as they once were, by royal 
edicts, but by the common sense of men who know that 
dress ought to be convenient as well as elegant. With 
ladies it is otherwise. Woman is still too generally be- 
lieved to have no higher mission than that of pleasing the 
senses rather than the judgment of men. and so many 
women of all classes are idle, that a fashion, however pre- 
posterous, is more readily accepted and more universally 
adopted by them than by the stronger sex. And this ia 
the case even when the reform proposed is obviously most 
advantageous. How difficult, for instance- has it been to 
abolish the stiff black hat and the throat-cutting collar, 
though the wide-awake and the turned-down collar were at 
once more graceful and more comfortable. How complete- 
ly has the attempt to establish the " peg-top" been a fail- 
ure, though every man of sense who values his health must 
feci that a loose covering is both more vJum.ortab;e and 
DxOre healthy than a t'.J.t sheathing of cloth. The fact is, 
that there is a conservatism in fashion which has the ap- 
pearance of being respectable, but is really slavish and 



APPROPRIATENESS. 



143 



gilly ; and the weekly satirists who undertake to laugb 
down its extravagances have not always the sense to ap- 
preciate its wisdom. Those in fact who are most eager in 
the blind attack on fashion, are often really its more ah 
lect and least sensible servants. To condemn a new fash- 
ion only because it is new, is contemptibly short-sighted* 
and the old wise gentlemen who sneer at Ci new-fangled fan- 
cies" should first ascertain whether the innovation is for 
the better or the worse. 

But, after all, the changes of fashion are not sufficiently 
rapid or violent in respect of men's dress, to make even 
our grandfathers uncomfortable on account of their pecu- 
liarity. If the hat-brim and coat-collar have lost what 
was once considered a graceful curl, if huge shirt-collars 
and stiff cravats have given way to a freer arrangement 
for the neck, if blue swallow-tailed coats and brass buttons 
have been succeeded by blue frocks without them, and buff 
waistcoats with painfully tight appendices, by white waist- 
coats and the liberty of the leg, the change is not great 
enough to require a new race of tailors, or make old men 
ridiculous even in our streets. But while an old man in 
an old fashion not only passes muster, but seems to acquire 
additional respectability from the antiquity of his style, a 
young man can scarcely adopt his grandfather's wardrobe 
without risking a smile. I remember once taking a friend 
of mine — a country squire of one-and-twenty — to dme 
with some extremely fashionable but not very well-bred 
bachelors. The appearance of my companion was decid- 
edly antique : for. conservative to the back ar.d its cover- 
ing, he prided himself on maintaining the style of hia 
worthy progenitor. I saw that the eye-glasses were turned 
on him with a look of mingled pity and contempt, and in 



144 



BKESS. 



the course of dinner heard the following remarks pagg 
between the host and a guest : — 

u Tray. G — ? " asked a lisping bewhiskered exquisite- 
of the former. Ci who is your fine old English gentleman ? 
What style do you call it ? Rather George the Fourth 
—eh !" 

" Yes, rather. 5 ' replied the host ; "but," he added in a 
whisper. " he has just come in to £12.000 a year and 
B— Hall." 

" Oh !— aw, indeed ! Then of course he can afford to 
be eccentric." 

This brings me to speak of certain necessities of dress : 
the first of which I shall take is appropriateness. The 
age of the individual is an important consideration in this 
respect : and a man of sixty is as absurd in the style of 
nineteen as my young friend in the high cravat of Brum- 
melFs day. I know a gallant colonel who is master of 
the ceremonies in a gay watering-place, and who, afraid of 
the prim old-fashioned tournure of his confreres in simi- 
lar localities, is to be seen, though his hair is grey and 
hi3 age not under five-and-sixty, in a light cut-away, the 
"peg-top" continuations, and a turned-down collar. It 
may be what younger blades will wear when they reach 
his age, but in the present day the effect is ridiculous. 
We may, therefore, give as a general rule, that after the 
turning-point of life a man should eschew the changes of 
fashion in his own attire, while he avoids complaining of 
it in the young. In the latter.. on the other hand, the ob- 
servance of these changes must depend partly on his taste 
and partly on his position. If wise, he will adopt with 
alacrity any new fashions which improve the grace the 
ease, the healthfulness. and the convenience of his gar* 



APPROPRIATENESS. 



145 



merits. He will be glad of greater freedom in the cut of 
his cloth clothes, of boots with elastic sides instead oi 
troublesome buttons or laces, of the privilege tc turn down 
his collar, and so forth, while he will avoid as extrava- 
gant, elaborate shirt-fronts, gold bindings on the waist- 
coat, and expensive buttons. On the other hand, what- 
ever his age, he will have some respect to his profession 
and position in society. He will remember how much 
the appearance of the man aids a judgment of his char- 
acter, and this test, which has often been cried down, is 
in reality no bad one ; for a man who does not dress ap- 
propriately evinces a want of w T hat is most necessary to 
professional men — tact and discretion. I could not, for 
instance, feel confidence in a young physician dressed as 
I am accustomed to see a guardsman ; while, if my law- 
yer were a dandy in his office, I should be inclined to 
think he knew more of gay society than of Coke upon 
Lyttleton. The dress of the clergy is not an arbitrary 
matter, yet I have seen ecclesiastics, who, abandoning the 
white choker, lounge in an easy costume, little different 
from that of their undergraduate days, and though it is 
certainly hard to condemn a man for life to the miseries 
of black cloth, we have a right to expect that he should 
be proud rather than ashamed of the badge of his high 
calling. 

Position in society demands a like appropriateness 
Well knowing the worldly value of a good coat. 1 would 
yet never recommend a man of limited means to aspire to 
a fashionable appearance. In the first place, he becomes 
thereby a walking falsehood ; in the second, he cannot, 
without running into debt, which is another term for dis- 
honesty, maintain the style he has adopted. As he cau* 

TV 
1 



HQ 



DKESS. 



not afford to change his suits as rapidly as fashion alters 
he must avoid following it in varying details. He will 
rush into wide sleeves one month, in the hope of being 
fashionable, and before his coat is worn out. the next 
month will bring in a narrow sleeve. We cannot, unfor- 
tunately, like Samuel Pepys, take a long cloak now-a-days 
to the tailor's, to be cut into a short one, u long cloaks 
being now quite out," as he tells us. Even when there 
is no poverty in the case, our position must not be for- 
gotten. The tradesman will win neither customers nor 
friends by adorning himself in the mode of the club- 
lounger, and the clerk, or commercial traveller, who dresses 
fashionably, lays himself open to inquiries as to his ante- 
cedents, which he may not care to have investigated. In 
general, it may be said that there is vulgarity in dressing 
like those of a class above us, since it must be taken as a 
proof of pretension. 

I remember going to church in a remote little village 
on the borders of Wales, and being surprised to see enter, 
among the clodhoppers and simple folk of the place, $ 
couple of young men dressed in the height of fashion, and 
wearing yellow kid gloves and patent leather boots. On 
inquiry I found them to be the sons of a rich manufactur- 
er, who had himself been once a working man, and wag 
residing in the neighborhood. I was not surprised, for 
vulgar pretension was here carried out to the worst ex- 
treme. Better-bred men would have known that, what- 
ever their London costume, a difference must be made in 
the country. The rule may be laid down that wherever 
we are we should assimilate, as far as convenient, to the 
customs and costumes of the place. While I had no wish 
to see the sons of the parvenu appear in smock-frocks 



TOWN AND COUNTRY. 



fetid high-lows, I was reasonable in thinking that a rough 
er style of dress would have been better, and this may be 
said for the country generally. As it is bad taste to flaunt 
the airs of the town among provincials, who know nothing 
&f them, it is worse taste to display the dress of a city in 
he quiet haunts of the rustics. The law which we havf 
enunciated, that all attempts at distinction by means of 
dress is vulgar and pretentious, would be sufficient argu* 
ment against wearing London fashions in the country ; but 
if this is not sufficient, we may picture the inconvenience 
of such a measure under certain circumstances. Had a 
shower of rain descended at the conclusion of the ser- 
vice, our two young sprigs of gentility would have looked 
superbly ridiculous in their thin boots and light gloves, 
and no London hansom to take refuge in, to say nothing 
of spoiling one's boots and catching cold. 

While in most cases a rougher and easier mode of dress 
is both admissible and desirable in the country, there are 
many occcasions of country visiting where a town man 
finds it difficult to decide. It is almost peculiar to the 
country to unite the amusements of the daytime with 
those of the evening ; of the open air with those of the 
drawing-room. Thus, in the summer, when the days are 
long, you will be asked to a pic-nic or an archery party, 
which will wind up with dancing in-doors, and may even 
assume the character of a ball. If you are aware of this 
beforehand, it will always be safe to send your evening 
Iress to your host's house, and you will learn from the 
servants whether others have done the same, and whether, 
therefore, you will not be singular in asking leave to 
c^iange yuur costume. But if you are ignorant hc^ tha 
day is to end. you must be guided partly by the hour of 



U8 



DRESS. 



invitation, and partly by the extent of your intimacy "w Ito 
the family. I have actually known gentlemen arrive at 
a large pic-nic at mid-day in complete evening dress, and 
pitied them with all my heart, compelled as they were to 
suffer, in tight black clothes, under a hot sun for eight 
hours, and dance after all in the same dress. On the other 
hand, if you are asked to come an hour or two before sun- 
set, after six in summer, in the autumn after five, you 
cannot err by appearing in evening dress. It is always 
taken as a compliment to do so, and if your acquaintance 
w T ith your hostess is slight, it would be almost a familiari- 
ty to do otherwise. In any case you desire to avoid sin- 
gularity, so that if you can discover what others who are 
invited intend to wear, you can always decide on your 
own attire. On the Continent there is a convenient rule 
for these matters ; never appear after four in the after- 
noon in morning dress ; but then grey trousers are there 
allowed instead of black, and white waistcoats are still 
worn in the evening. At any rate, it is possible to effect 
a compromise between the two styles of costume, and if 
you are likely to be called upon to dance in the evening, 
it will be well to w^ear thin boots, a black frock-coat, and 
a small black neck-tie, and to put a pair of clean white 
gloves into your pocket. You will thus be at least less 
conspicuous in the dancing-room than in a light tweed suit. 

Englishmen are undeniably the most conservative men 
it the world, and in nothing do they show it more univcr 
gaily than in maintaining their usual habits in any country 
climate, or eeason. L Anglais en voyaye has been a 
fruitful subject of ridicule both to our own and foreign 
writers, and I shall therefore content myself with saying 
th&t, while I would not have an Englishman adopt every 



TRAVELLING. 



149 



k*eal habit or every fantastic costume cf those among whom 
te finds himself, I would fain see him avoid that distinc- 
tiveness in both which is set down by our neighbors tc 
pride and obstinacy. Excellent, for instance, is the cus- 
tom of shaking hands, but it has on the Continent gene- 
rally a much more friendly and particular signification, an 
is permitted between the sexes only after a long intimacy; 
In fact, a French jeune fille never takes a gentleman's 
hand unless he is quite an emi de la maison, so that foi 
an Englishman at a first visit to shake hands all round 
amounts to a familiarity. I shall never forget the deep 
crimson on the cheeks of a charming girl to whom I once 
introduced an English friend, and who was too well-bred not 
to touch his proffered hand, but did so with an air of un- 
mistakable surprise. " Qu'est-ce quec'est que votre ami," 
she asked me afterwards ; " est-ce qu'il veut done m'em- 
brasser?" To impose the manners of one's country on 
the people of another, is as bad as to revive those of a 
past century. 

In tho middle of the last century it was the custom for a 
gentleman on entering a room, to kiss the ladies all round 
on the cheek. Had not my French friend as much right 
o blush, as any English young lady would if I were to 
subject her to the practice of the charming but obsolete 
custom ? 

Can anything be more painfully ridiculous than an Eng- 
lishman wearing a black silk hat and frock-coat of cloth 
under tho sun of the equator ? Yet such is our want cf 
sense, or our love of national costumes, however hideous 
that it is the etiquette in our colonies, whether in tin tro- 
pics or the arctic regions, to wear precisely the s.ime stiff 
hoc court dreos as at St. James'. However this might \*a 



150 



DTIESS. 



excused on the plea of uniformity in official dress, it is no 
dxciise for the fashion which imposes the coat, &e. of Pali 
Mall on the gentleman of Calcutta or Colombo : and the 
same may be said of our own fashion of wearing cloth 
clothes throughout the year. There is many a summer's 
'lay in England as hot as any in Italy, and in general the 
difference between our summer and that of France and 
America is. that there the heat is glaring and clear, with 
us. if less powerful, close and oppressive. Why then 
should my Lcrd Fashion permit the Frenchman and Yam 
kee to wear whole suits of white linen, and condemn us to 
black cloth? Nothing can be neater or prettier, as mod- 
ern dress goes, than the white coat, waistcoat, et cetera 
with a straw hat and a bright blue tie: but it is some- 
thing to say against it, that London smoke would necessi- 
tate a clean suit per diem, which would materially aug- 
ment the washing expenditure of our metropolitan Beaux 
Tibbses. The nearest approach we are allowed to make 
to a sensible costume, on days when we should like to fol- 
low Sidney Smith's advice, by the removal of o\ir flesh 
and sitting: in our skeletons, is that of lisrht thin tweeds, 
but even these are not countenanced in St. James' and the 
Park, and we must be content to take refuge in a white 
waistcoat and the thinnest possible material for our frock- 
coat. On the other hand, as our winters are never very 
severe, we have only to choose thicker tweeds of a Jarfcei 
color for that season, and the wrapper or great coat then 
becomes not nearly so important an article as the indra 
pensable umbrella. In this country, therefore, as present 
fashions require, appropriateness to the season will i>j 
easily acquired by a change of material and colo* mthel 
than of form, in our apparel. 



APPROPRIATENESS TO OCCASIONS. 



151 



Not so the distinction to be made according to Size. As 
E rule, tall men require long clothes — some few perhaps 
even in the nurse's sense of those words — ana short men 
short clothes. On the other hand, Falstaff should beware 
of Jenny Wren coats and affect ample wrappers, ^hile 
Peter Schemihl, and the whole race of thin men, must 
eschew looseness as much in their garments as their morals 

Lastly we come to what is appropriate to different occa« 
Bions, and as this is an important subject, I shall treat of 
it separately. For the present it is sufficient to point out 
that while every man should avoid not only extravagance, 
but even brilliance of dress on ordinary occasions, there 
are some on which he may and ought to pay more atten- 
tion to his toilet, and attempt to look gay. Of course, the 
evenings are not here meant. For evening dress there is 
a fixed rule, from which we can depart only to be foppish 
or vulgar ; but in morning dress there is greater liberty, 
and when we undertake to mingle with those who are as- 
sembled avowedly for gaiety, we should not make ourselves 
remarkable by the dinginess of our dress. Such occasions 
are open air entertainments,/^^, flower-shows, archery- 
meetings, matin? es, and id genus omne, where much of 
the pleasure to be derived depends on the general effect on 
the enjoyers, and where, if we cannot pump up a look of 
tnirth, we should at least, if we go at all, wear the sem- 
blance of it in oui dress. I have a worthy little friend, 
fcho, I believe, is as well-disposed to his kind as Lord 
Shaftesbury himself, but who, for some reason, perhaps a 
isvmgc of philosophy about him, frequj^ts the gay meet- 
ings to which he is asked in an old coat and a wide-awake. 
Rome people take him for a wit. but he soon shows thai 
he does not aspire to that character ; others for a phikso* 



152 



DRESS. 



pber, but he is too gcod-mannered for that ; others pool 
man ! pronounce him a cynic, and all are agreed that 
whatever he may be, he looks out of place and spoik the 
gr neral effect. I believe in my heart that he is the mild- 
er^ of men, but will not take the trouble to dress more 
than once a day. At any rate, he has a character for ec . 
centricity, which, I am sure, is precisely w T hat he would 
wish to avoid. That character is a most delightful one for 
a bachelor and it is generally Coelebs who holds it, for il 
has been proved by statistics that there are four single to 
one married man among the inhabitants of our mad-houses ; 
but eccentricity yields a reputation which requires some- 
thing to uphold it, and even in Diogenes of the Tub it was 
extremely bad taste to force himself into Plato's evening 
party without sandals, and nothing but a dirty tunic on 
him. 

Another requisite in dress is its simplicity, with which 
I may couple harmony of color. This simplicity is the 
only distinction which a man of taste should aspire to in 
the matter of dress, but a simplicity in appearance must 
proceed from a nicety in reality. One should not be 
simply ill-dressed, but simply-well dressed. Lord Castle- 
reagh would never have been pronounced the most distin- 
guished man in the gay court of Vienna, because he wore 
no orders or ribbons among hundreds decorated with a pro- 
fusion of those vanities, but because besides this he wag 
pressed with taste. The charm of Brummell's dress wag 
its simplicity ; yet it cost him as much thought, time, and 
eare, as the portfolio of a minister. The rules of sim- 
plici ty, therefore, are the rules of taste All extravagance, 
all splendor, and all profusion, must be avoided. The colors, 
in the first place, must harmonize both with our complexion 



JEWELRY. 



153 



And with one another ; perhaps most of all with the coloi 
of cur hair. All bright colors should be avoided, such as 
red, yellow, sky-blue, and bright green. Perhaps only a 
successful Australian gold digger would think of choosing 

o DO C 

such colors for his coat, waistcoat, or trousers ; but there 
arc hundreds of young men who might select them foi 
their gloves and neck-ties. The deeper colors are, some- 
how or other, more manly, and are certainly less striking. 
The same simplicity should be studied in the avoidance of 
ornamentation. A few years ago it was the fashion to 
trim the evening waistcoat with a border of gold lace. 
This is an example of fashions always to be rebelled against. 
Then, too, extravagance in the form of our dress is a sin 
against taste. I remember that long ribbons took the 
place of neck-ties some years ago. At an Oxford com- 
memoration; two friends of mine determined to cut a figure 
in this matter, having little else to distinguish them. The 
one wore two yards of bright pink ; the other the same 
quantity of bright blue ribbon round their necks. I have 
reason to believe they think now that they both looked su- 
perbly ridiculous. In the same way, if the trousers are 
worn wide, we should not wear them as loose as a Turk's; 
or if the sleeves are to be open, we should not rival the 
ladies in this matter. And so on through a hundred de- 
tails, generally remembering that to exaggerate a fashion 
<s to assume a character, and therefore vulgar. The wear- 
ing of jewelry comes under this head. Jewels are an or- 
aament to women, but a blemish to men. They bespeak 
either effeminacy or a love of display. The hand of a man 
is honored in working, for labor is his mission : and the 
hand that wears its riches on its fingers, has rarely <votked 
honestly to win them. The best jewel a man can wear is 
7* 



154 



DRESS. 



his honor. Let that be bright and shining, well set in pm 
dence, and all others must darken before it. But as we 
are savages, and must have some silly trickery to hang 
about us, a little, but very little concession may be made 
to our taste in this respect. I am quite serious when I 
disadvise you from the use of nose-rings, gold anklets, and 
hat-bands studded with jewels; for when I see an incred- 
ulous young man of the nineteenth century, dangling from 
his watch-chain a dozen silly "charms" (often the only 
ones he possesses), which have no other use than to give 
a fair coquette a legitimate subject on which to approach 
to closer intimacy, and which are revived from the lowest 
superstitions of dark ages, and sometimes darker races, I 
am quite justified in believing that some South African 
chieftain, sufficiently rich to cut a dash in London, might 
introduce with success the most peculiar fashions of his 
own country. However this may be, there are already 
sufficient extravagances prevalent among our young men 
to attack. 

The man of good taste will wear as little jewelry as 
possible. One handsome signet-ring on the little finger 
of the left band, a scarf-pin which is neither large nor 
showy nor too intricate in its design, and a light, rather 
thin watch-guard with a cross-bar, are all that he ought to 
wear. But if he aspires to more than this, he should ob« 
serve the following rules: — 

1. Let everything be real and good. False jewelry is 
not only a practical lie, but an absolute vulgarity, since 
its use arises from an attempt to appear richer or grander 
than its wearer is. 

2. Let it be simple. Elaborate studs, waistcoat-buttons 
and wrist links, are all abominable. The last particular!) 



JEWELRY. 



155 



ghrald bo as plain as possible, consisting of plain gold 
ovals, with at most the crest engraved upon them. Dia- 
monds and brilliants are quite unsuitable to men, whose 
jeweli j should never be conspicuous. If you happen to 
possess a single diamond of great value you may wcai it 
or great occasions as a ring, but no more than one ring 
should ever be worn by a gentleman. 

3. Let it be distinguished rather by its curiosity thai* 
its brilliance. An antique or bit of old jewelry possesses 
QQore interest, particularly if you are able to tell its his- 
tory, than the most splendid production of the goldsmith's 
ihop. 

4. Let it harmonize with the colors of your dress. 

5. Let it have some use. Men should never, like women 
wear jewels for mere ornament, whatever may be the 
fashion of Hungarian noblemen, and deposed Indian rajahs 
with jackets covered with rubies. 

The precious stones are reserved for ladies, and even 
our scarf-pins are more suitable without them. English 
taste has also the superiority over that of the Continent in 
condemning the wearing of orders, clasps, and ribbons, 
except at court or on official occasions. If these are really 
given for merit, they will add nothing to our fame ; if, as 
in nine cases out of ten, they are bestowed merely because 
the recipient has done his duty, they may impose on fools, 
but will, if anything, provoke only awkward inquiries from 
sensible men. If it be permitted to flaunt Dur bravery or 
>ur learning on the coat-collar, as much as to cry, like 
tittle Jack Horner, " See what a good boy am I !" I 
sannot for my part, discover why a curate should not carry 
his silver teapot about with him, or Mr. Morison enlarge 
his phylacteries with a selection from the one million casea 
3f u almost miraculous cures. " 



tf6 



DRESS. 



The dress that is Loth appropriate and simple can neyei 
offend, nor render its wearer conspicuous, though it may 
distinguish him for his good taste. But it will not he 
pleasing unless clean and fresh. We cannot quarrel with 
b poor gentleman's thread-bare coat, if his linen be pure, 
and we see that he has never attempted to dress beyond 
his means or unsuitably to his station. But the sight 01 
decayed gentility and dilapidated fashion may call forth 
our pity, and at the same time prompt a moral: " You 
have evidently sunken," we say to ourselves ; " but whose 
fault was it ? Am I not led to suppose that the extrava- 
gance which you evidently once revelled in has brought 
you to what I now see you?" While freshness is essen- 
tial to being well-dressed, it will be a consolation to those 
who cannot afford a heavy tailor's bill, to reflect that a 
visible newness in one's clothes is as bad as patches and 
darns, and to remember that there have been celebrated 
dressers who would never put on a new coat till it had 
been worn two or three times by their valets. On the 
other hand, there is no excuse — except at Donny brook — ■ 
for untidiness, holes in the boots, a broken hat, torn 
gloves, and so on. Indeed, it is better to wear no gloves 
at all than a pair full of holes. There is nothing to be 
asliamed of in bare hands if they are clean, and the poor 
can still afford to have their shirts and shoes mended, 
and their hats ironed. It is certainly better to show signs 
if neatness than the reverse, and vou need sooner be 
ashamed of a hole than a darn. 

Of personal cleanliness I have spoken at such length 
that little need be said on that of the clothes. If you are 
economical with vour tailor, you can be extra vacant with 
four laundress. The beaux of forty years back put ou 



LINEN. 



157 



three shirts a day, but except in hot weather one is suffi- 
cient. Of course, if you change your dress in the even* 
ing you must change your shirt too. There has been a 
2'reat outcry against colored flannel shirts in the place oi 
1 men, and 'the man who can wear one for three days is 
lucked on as little better than St. Simeon Stylitcs. I 
should like to know how often the advocates of linen 
change their own under-flannel, and whether the same 
rule does not apply to what is seen as to what is con- 
cealed. But while the flannel is perhaps healthier as ab- 
sorbing the moisture more rapidly, the linen has the ad- 
vantage of looking cleaner, and may therefore be prefer- 
red. As to economy, if the flannel costs less to wash, it 
also wears out sooner; but, be this as it may, a man's 
wardrobe is not complete without half a dozen or so of 
these shirts, which he will find most useful, and ten times 
more comfortable than linen in long excursions, or when 
exertion will be required. Flannel, too, has the advan- 
tage of being warm in winter and cool in summer, for, 
being a non-conductor, but a retainer of heat, it protects 
the body from the sun, and, on the other hand, shields 
it from the cold. But the best shirt of all, particularly 
in winter, is that which wily monks and hermits pre- 
tended to wear for a penance, well knowing that they 
could have no garment cooler, more comfortable, or more 
healthy. I mean, of course, the rough hair-shirt. Like 
flannel, it is a non-conductor of heat ; but then, too, it 
acts the part of a sham-pooer, and with its perpetual fric- 
tion soothes the surface of the skin, and prevents the cir« 
eulation from being arrested at any one point of the body. 
Though I doubt if any of my readers will take a hin| 
from the wisdom of the merry anchorites, they will per 



158 



DRESS. 



haps allow me to suggest that the next best thing to we a? 
next the :kin is fianne^ and that too of the coaisest de- 
scription. 

Quantity is better than quality in linen. Nevertheless 
it should be fine and well spun. The loose cuff, which «< 
borrowed from the French some four years ago. is a gie. i 
improvement on the old tight wrist-band, and, indeed, it 
must be borne in mind that anything which binds any part 
of the body tightly impedes the circulation, and is there- 
fore unhealthy as well as ungraceful. Who more hideous 
and unnatural than an officer of the Russian or Austrian 
army — compelled to reduce his waist to a certain size — 
unless it be a dancing-master in stays ? At Munich, I re- 
member there was a somewhat corpulent major of the 
Guards who, it was said, took two men to buckle his belt 
in the morning, and was unable to speak for about an 
hour after the operation. His face, of course, was of a 
most unsightly crimson. 

The necessity for a large stock of linen depends on a 
rule far better than BrummeH's, of three shirts a day, 
*iz. : — 

Change your linen whenever it is at all dirty. 

This is the best guide with regard to collars, socks, 
pocket-handkerchiefs, and our under garments. Xo rule 
can be laid down for the number we should wear per week 
for everything depends on circumstances. Thus in the 
countiy all our linen remains longer clean than in London ; 
n dirty, wet. or dusty weather, our socks get soon (lir-y 
nd must be changed : or, if we have a cold, to say nothing 
of the possible but not probable case of tear- shed ding on 
the departure of friends, or of sensitive young ladies ovei 
ft Crimean engagement, we shall want more than onf 



ESTIMATE OF A WARDROBE. 



168 



pooLet handkerchief per diem. In fact, the last article oi 
modern civilization is put to so many uses, is so much dis- 
played, and liable to be called into action on so many va- 
rious engagements, that we should always have a clean 
Dne in our pockets. "Who knows when it may not servr 
us in good stead ? Who can tell how often the corner >f 
the delicate cambric will have to represent a tear which, 
like difficult passages in novels, is "left to the imagina- 
tion." Can a man of any feeling call on a disconsolate 
widow, for instance, and listen to her woes, without at 
least pulling out that expressive appendage ? Can any one 
believe in our sympathy if the article in question is a dirty 
one ? There are some people who, like the clouds, only 
exist to weep ; and King Solomon, though not one of 
them, has given them great encouragement in speaking of 
the house of mourning. We are bound to weep with them, 
and we are bound to weep elegantly. 

A man whose dress is neat, clean, simple, and appro- 
priate, will pass muster anywhere. But he cannot always 
wear the same clothes, like Werther. The late Mr. Foun- 
tayn Wilson, notorious for his wealth and stinginess, 
thought otherwise. When Napoleon the First was threat- 
ening England, and there was the same mania for volunteer 
corps as now, he bought up an immense quantity of grey 
cloth, in the hope that the government would give a good 
price for it later. He was disappointed, and to make use 
j>f his purchase, determined to wear nothing else himself 
for the rest of his life. Future biographers may perhaps 
invent a similar story, to account for Lord Brougham's 
p i t i ; i ty to checked trouse rs . 

A well-dressed man does not require so much an exten- 
sive as a varied wardrobe. He wants a different costume 



160 



DRESS. 



for every seasoL and every occasion ; but if what he select* 
is simple rather than striking, he may appear in the same 
clothes as often as he likes, as long as they aie fresh and 
appropriate to the season and the object. There are foui 
kinds of coats which he must have : a morning-coat, a 
frock-coat, a dress-coat, and an over-coat. An economical 
man may do well with four of the first, and one of each 
of the others per annum. George the Fourth's wardrobe* 
sold for £15,000, and a single cloak brought no less than 
£800. But George was a king and a beau, and in debt 
to his tailor. The dress of an English gentleman in the 
present day should not cost him more than the tenth part 
of his income on an average. But as fortunes vary more 
than position, if his income is large it will take a much 
smaller proportion, if small a larger one. But generally 
speaking, a man with £300 a year should not devote more 
than £30 to his outward man. The seven coats in ques- 
tion will cost about £18. Six pairs of morning, and one 
of evening trousers, will cost £9. Four morning waist- 
coats, and one for evening, make another £4. Gloves, 
linen, hats, scarves and neck-ties, about £10, and the im- 
portant item of boots, at least £5 more. This, I take it, 
is a sufficient wardrobe for a well-dressed man who employ J 
a moderate tailor, and the whole is under £50. It is quite 
possible tc dress decently for half that sum, and men of 
small means should be content to do so. If a man, how- 
ever, mixes in society, and I write for those who do so. 
there are some things which are indispensable to oven 
proper dressing, and every occasion will have its propel 
attire. 

In his own house, then, and in the morning, there la 
no rec,son why he should not wear out his old clothes 



STYLE IN MORS NG DRESS. 



1G1 



Some men take to the delightful ease of a iresssing-gown 
and slippers; and if bachelors, they do well. If family men, 
it will probably depend on whether the lady or the gentle- 
man wears the pantaloons. The best walking- dress for a 
non-professional men is a suit of tweed of the same color, 
ordinary boots, gloves not too dark for the coat, a scarf 
with a pin in winter, or a small tie of one color in sum- 
mer, a respectable black hat, and a cane. The last 
item is perhaps the most important, and though its use 
varies with fashion, I confess I am sorry when I see it go 
out. The Englishman does not gesticulate when talking, 
and in consequence has nothing to do with his hands. To 
put them in his pockets is the natural action, but this gives 
an appearance of lounging insouciance, or impudent de- 
termination, which becomes very few men, if any. The 
best substitute for a walking-stick is an umbrella, not a 
parasol unless it be given you by a lady to carry. The 
main point of the walking-dress is the harmony of colors 
but this should not be carried to the extent of M. de Malt 
zan, who some years ago made a bet to wear nothing but 
pink at Baden-Baden for a whole year, and had boots and 
gloves of the same lively hue. He won his wager, but 
also the soubriquet of " Le Diablo enflamme." The walk- 
ing dress should vary according to the place and hour. In 
the country or at the sea-side a straw hat or wide-awake 
may take the place of the beaver, and the nuisance of 
gloves be even dispensed with in the former. But in Lon- 
don, where a man is supposed to make visits as well 
lounge in the Park, the frock coat of very dark blue or 
Dlack, or a black cloth cut-away, the white waistcoat, and 
lavender gloves, are almost indispensable. Very thin 
boots should be avoided at all times and whatever clothea 



162 



DRESS. 



one wears they should be well brushed. The shirt 
whether seen or not. should be quite plain. The shirt col 
lar should never have a color on it. but it may be stiff 01 
turned down according as the wearer is Byronicaily or 
Brummellically disposed. The scarf, if simple and of ciotl 
est colors, is perhaps the best thing we can wear round tla 
neck : but if a neck-tie is preferred it should not be but) 
long, nor tied in too stiff and studied a manner. Brum- 
melt made his reputation by the knot of his cravat, and 
oven in so tiny a trifle a man may show his taste or his 
want of it. The cane should be extremely simple, a mere 
stick in fact, with no gold head, and yet for the town not 
rough, thick, or clumsy ; nor of the style beloved of Cor- 
poral Shanks of the Fusileers. The frock-coat should be 
ample and loose, and a tall well-built man may throw it 
back. At any rate, it should never be buttoned up. 
Great-coats are so little worn in this country that I need 
say little about them. If worn at all they should be but- 
toned up, of a dark color, not quite black, longer than the 
frock coat, but never long enough to reach the ankles. 
If you have visits to make you should do away with the 
great-coat, if the weather allows you to do so. On the 
Continent it is always removed before entering a drawing- 
room, but not so in England. The frock-coat, or black 
cut-awav. with a white waistcoat in summer, is the best 
dress for making calls in. 

It is certainly very bard that a man may not wear what 
ho likes / and that if I have a fancy to grandeur, and a 
fine pair }f shoulders. I may not be allowed to strut along 
Pall Mall in a Roman to 2a : or having lost a seventeenth 
cousin removed, am forbidden by the laws — at least those 
of Policeman Z 500. who most certainly would insist od 



STYLE I2« MORNING DRESS, 



163 



my ct moving on" — to array myself in a paletot of sack- 
cloth, with a unique head-dress of well-sifted cinders ; but 
so it is. and if my relatives did not commit me to the 
walls of some delightful suburban " Retreat/ 7 patronized 
by Doctor Conolly, and make the toga an excuse for ap 
propria ting my small income, — even if the small boj 
would let me alone, and I could walk without a band of 
self-appointed and vociferous retainers, there would still 
be that terrible monosyllable, snob, to cure me in a mo- 
ment of a weakness for classical attire. I will not en- 
lighten you as to the amount of horror I feel at the mere 
mention of that title : I will only say that those who do 
not care whether the title is given them or not, can afford 
to dress in any style they like. Those who do, on the 
other hand, must avoid certain articles of attire which are 
either obsolete or peculiar to a class. Thus unless a man 
is really a groom, why should he aspire to be like 
one ? Why should he compress his lower limbs into the 
very tightest of garments, made for a man of seven feet 
high, and worn by one of five, necessitating in consequence 
a peculiar wrinkling from the foot to the knee, which 
seems to find immense favor in the eyes of the stable-boy 
Unless you are a prize-fighter, again, why should you pa- 
tronize a neck-tie of Waterloo blue with white spots on it. 
commonly known as the "bird's eye" pattern, and much 
affected by candidates for the champion's belt. If your 
lot has not been cast behind the counter of a haberdasher 
San there be any obvious reason why you should clothe 
your nether man in a stuff of the largest possible check, 
and the most vivid colors? Or if fortune did not select 
you for a " light" in some sect, or at any rate for the po- 
sition of a small tradesman, can you on any plausible 



164 



DRESS. 



grounds defend the fact that you are seen in the morning 
in a swallow-tail black cloth coat, and a black satin tief 
Nay. if like Mr. Fountayn Wilson, you have been specu- 
lating in cloth, black instead of grey, and had twenty 
thousand yards on your hands, you must on no considera- 
tion put any of them on your legs before a certain hour 
of the evening. Of course you may. if you please, wear 
jockey trousers, broad patterns, bird's-eye handkerchiefs, 
tail-coats, and black cloth, at any hour of the day, and in 
any portion of the civilized world, but it will be under 
pain and penalty of being dubbed by that terrible mono- 
syllable, which nothing could induce me to repeat. No 
it must be a shooting coat of any cut or color, or a frock- 
coat that is dark, or in winter an over-coat, but it may 
never be a tail-coat, and so on with the rest. You may 
dress like a bargee, in shorts and grey stockings, like a 
chimney-sweep in the deepest mourning, like a coster- 
monger, a coalheaver, a shoeblack, or as M. de Maltzan 
did, like " Sa Majeste d'en bas," and you will either be 
taken for a bargee, chimney-sweep, costermonger, coal- 
heaver, shoeblack, or demon, or you will be set down as 
eccentric ; but if, while not discarding your ordinary at- 
tire, you adopt some portion peculiar to a class below you, 
you will, I regret to say, be, certainly most uncharitably 
entitled only a snob. 

So much for morning dress. 

It is simple nonsense to talk of modern civilization, an J 
rejoice that the cruelties of the dark ages can never be 
perpetrated in these days and this country. I maintain 
that they are perpetrated freely, generally, daily, with 
the consent of the wretched victim himself, in the cow 
pulsion to wear evening clothes. Is there anything at 



LIMB-COVERS. 



185 



once moie comfortless or more hideous? Let us begin 
with what the delicate Americans call limb-covers, which 
we are told were the invention of the Gauls, but I am in* 
dined to think, of a much worse race, for it is clearly an 
%i achronism to ascribe the discovery to a Venetian called 
Piantaleone, and it can only have been Inquisitors or de- 
mons who inflicted this scourge on the race of man, and 
his ninth-parts, the tailors, for I take it that both are 
equally bothered by the tight pantaloon. Let us pause 
awhile over this unsightly garment, and console ourselves 
with the reflection that as every country, and almost every 
year, has a different fashion in its make of it, we may at 
last be emancipated from it altogether, or at least be able 
to wear it d la Turque. 

Whenever I call at a great house, which, as I am a 
writer on etiquette, must — of course — be very often, I 
confess to feeling a most trying insignificance in the pre- 
sence of the splendid Mercury who ushers me in. Why 
is this ? Neither physically, mentally, by position, educa- 
tion, nor genius, am I his inferior, and yet I shrink before 
him. On the other hand, if it is a butler in plain clothes 
who admits me, like Bob Acres, I feel all my courage 
ooze back again. I gave my nights, long and sleepless, to 
the consideration of this problem, and hav? now arrived 
at a satisfactory explanation. It is not the tall figure and 
magnificent whiskers ; it is not the gold lace and rich red 
plash; it is not the majestically indifferent air of John 
Thomas that appals me; it is the consciousness that my 
legs — my, as a man, most important and distinctive limbs 
—are in an inferior position to his. As an artist. I can- 
not but recognize the superior beauty of his figure. And 
fox this disgrace this ignominy I suffer, I have to thank 



166 



DRESS. 



the Celts with their hraccce, and tlie kJ taste of scms 
calfless monarch or leader of fashion — probably a German 
for all Germans have bad taste and bad legs — who revived 
this odious, long obsolete instrument of personal torture 
It is nothing less, believe me. Independent of a loss of 
personal beauty, there is the unhealthiness of a tight gar i 
ment clinging to the very portion which we exercise most, 
and which most demands a free circulation. It is true, 
that the old-fashioned breeches, if too tightly fastened 
round the knee, produced the same effect, and Maria 
Macklin, a celebrated actress of male characters, almost 
lost her leg by vanity in the matter of " Honi soit qui 
mal y pense;" but, after all, what is not a cool stocking 
to a hot bag of thick stuff round the leg : how far prefe- 
rable the freedom of trunk-hose, to the hardly fought 
liberty of the a peg-top"' trousers. But it is not all 
trousers that I rebel against. If I might wear linen ap- 
pendices in summer, and fur continuations in winter, I 
would not groan, but it is the evening dress' that inflicts 
on the man who likes society the necessity of wearing the 
same trying cloth all the year round, so that under Boreas 
he catches colds, and under the dog-star he melts. They 
manage these things better abroad. In America a man 
may go to a ball in white ducks. In France he has the 
option of light grey. But in England we are doomed for 
ever to buckskin. This unmentionable, but most necessa- 
ry disguise of the " human form divine,' 7 is one that 
never varies in this country and therefore I must lay dc wn 
the rule : — 

For all evening wear — black cloth trousers* 
But the tortures of evening dress do not end with oui 
lower limbs. Of all the iniquities perpetrated under the 



i 




Reign of Terror, none has lasted so long as that sf the 
gtraight-jacket, which was palmed off on the people as a 
fl habit de compagnie." If it were necessary to sing a 
hymn of praise to Robespierre, Marat, and Co., I would 
nther take the guillotine as my subject to extol than the 
swallow tail. And yet we endure the stiffness, unsightly 
ness, uncomfortableness, and want of grace of the latter, 
with more resignation than that with w T hich Charlotte 
Corday put her beautiful neck into the a trou d'enfer" of 
the former. Fortunately modern republicanism has tri 
umphed over ancient etiquette, and the tail-coat of to-da^ 
is looser and more easy than it was twenty years ago. I 
can only say, let us never strive to make it bearable, till 
we have abolished it. Let us abjure such vulgarities as 
silk collars, wdiite silk linings, and so forth, which at- 
tempt to beautify this monstrosity, as a hangman might 
wreathe his gallows with roses. The plainer the manner 
in which you wear your misery, the better. 

Then again the black waistcoat, stiff, tight, and cora- 
Tortless. Fancy Falstaff in a ball-dress such as we now 
wear. No amount of Embroidery, gold-trimmings, or 
jewel-buttons, will render such an infliction grateful to 
the mass. The best plan is to w T ear thorough mourning 
for your wretchedness. In France and America, the ( ooler 
white w T aistcoat is admitted. We have scouted it, and 
left it to aldermen and shopkeepers. Would I w T ere art 
ulderman or a shopkeeper in the middle of July, when 1 
i*m compelled to dance in a full attire of black cloth, 
ilowevcr, as we have it, let us make the best of it, and not 
parade our misery by hideous ornamentation. The only 
evening waistcoat for all purposes for a man of taste is one 
of simple black cloth, with the simplest possible buttons 



163 



DRESS. 



These three items never vary for dinnei-paity, muffin- 
worry, or ball. The only distinction allowed is in thd 
Deck-tie. For dinner, the opera, and balls, this must w 
white, and the smaller the better. It should be, too, of 
viasliable texture, nyt silk, nor netted, nor hansdns: down 
nor of any foppish production, but a simple white Ik 
without embroidery. The black tie is only admitted foi 
evening parties, and should be equally simple. The shirt- 
front which figures under the tie should be plain, with 
unpretending small plaits. All the elaborations which 
the French have introduced among us in this particular, 
and the custom of wearing pink under the shirt, are an 
abomination to party-goers. The glove must be wh te, 
not yellow. Recently, indeed, a fashion has sprung up 
of wearing lavender gloves in the evening. They are 
economical, and as all economy is an abomination, must 
be avoided. Gloves should always be worn at a ball. At 
a dinner-party in town they should be worn on entering | 
the room, and drawn off for dinner. While, on the one 
band, we must avoid the awkwardness of a gallant sea- 
captain who. wearing no gloves at a dance, excused him- 
self to his partner by saying. Never mind. Miss. I carj 
wash my hands when I've done dancing," we have nc 
need in the present day to copy the Roman gentleman 
mentioned by Athenseus. who wore gloves at dinner that 
he might pick his meat from the hot dishes more rapidly 
than the bare-handed guests As to gloves at tea-parties 
ir A so forth, we are generally safer with than without 
them. If it is quite a small party, we may leave them 
in our pocket, and in the country they are scarcely ex- 
pected to be worn ; but touch noi ^ cat but with * 
glove you are always safer with them. 



PKEaT, UNDREST. AND MUCH DRE3T. 



^ct 60 in the matter of the hat. In France and Ger- 
iwuy the hat is brought into a ball-room and drawing- 
room under nil circumstances, and great is the confusion 
arising therefrom, a man having every chance of finding 
hi3 now hat exchanged for an old one under a seat. 1 
ence walked home from a German ball as bare- headed a? 
a. friar, some well-dressed robber having not only ex- 
changed his hat with mine, but to prevent detection car- 
ried off his own too. I shall not easily forget the con- 
sternation in an English party to which I went soon after 
my return from the Continent, unconsciously carrying in 
my hat, and the host could not restrain some small face- 
tious allusion to it, when I looked for it under the table 
before going away. A " Gibus" prevents all such diffi- 
culties ; yet as a general rule in England the hat should 
be left outside. 

I must not quit this subject without assuring myself 
that my reader knows more about it now than he did be- 
fore. In fact I have taken one thing for granted, viz., 
that he knows what it is to be dressed, and what undress- 
ed. Of course I do not suppose him to be in the blissful 
state of ignorance on the subject once enjoyed by our first 
parents. I use the words " dressed" and " undressed" 
rather in the sense meant by a military tailor, or a cook 
with reference to a salad. You need not be shocked. I 
am one of those people who wear spectacles fo~ fear of 
gceing anything wdth the naked eye. I am the soul of 
scrupulosity. But I am wondering whether everybody 
arranges his wardrobe as our ungrammatical nurses used 
to do ours, under the heads of " best, second-best, third- 
best," and so on, and knows what things ought to te 
placed under each. To be " undressed" is to be dresrxd 
8 



170 



DRESS. 



fur work and ordinary occupations, to wear a coat vrhiei* 
you do not fear to spoil, and a neck-tie which your ink- 
stand will not object to, but your acquaintance might 
To be " dressed,"' on the other hand, since by dress we 
ahc our respect for society at large, or the persons with 
k horn we are to mingle, is to be clothed in the garments 
srhicli the said society pronounces as suitable to particu- 
lar occasions ; so that evening dress in the morning, 
morning dress in the evening, and top boots and a red 
coat for walking, may all be called " undress," if not 
positively " bad dress/' But there are shades of being 
"dressed;" and a man is called " little dressed," u well 
dressed," and " much dressed," not according to the quan- 
tity but the quality of his coverings. The diminutive 
jockey, whom I meet in my walks a month before the 
Derby, looking like a ball of clothes, and undergoing a 
most uncomfortable process of liquefaction which he de- 
nominates "training," is by no means " much dressed' 
because he wears two great-coats, three thick waistcoats 
and the same number of "'comforters." To be " littl* 
dressed" is to wear old things, of a make that is no Ion 
ger the fashion, having no pretension to elegance, artistic 
beauty, or ornament. It is also to wear lounging clothes 
on occasions which demand some amount of precision. 
To be "'much dressed"' is to be in the extreme of the 
fashion, with bran new clothes, jewelry, and ornaments, 
uith a touch of extravagance and gaiety in your colors. 
1 1ms to wear patent leather boots and yellow gloves in a 
*iet morning stroll is to be much dressed, and certainly 
dues not differ immensely from being badly dressed. To 
be " well dressed" is the happy medium between tkess 
two, which is not given to every one to hold, inasmuch i& 



BREST, UNDRE3T, AND MUCH DREST. Hi 

good taste is rare, and is a sine qia non thereof. Thus 
while you avoid ornament and all fastness, you must cul- 
tivate fashion, that is good fashion, in the make of your 
clothes. A man must not be made by his tailor, hit 
should make him, educate him, give him his own gooj 
fuste. To be well dressed is to be dressed precisely as 
the occasion, place, weather, your height, figure, position 
age, and, remember it, your means require. It is to be 
clothed without peculiarity, pretension, or eccentricity; 
without violent colors, elaborate ornament, or senseless 
fashions, introduced often by tailors for their own profit. 
Good dressing is to wear as little jewelry as possible, 
to be scrupulously neat, clean, and fresh, and to carry 
your clothes as if you did not give them a thought. 

Then too there is a scale of honor among clothes, which 
must not be forgotten. Thus, a new coat is more hon- 
orable than an old one, a cut-away or shooting-coat than 
a dressing-gown, a frock-coat than a cut-away, a dark 
blue frock-coat than a black frock-coat, a tail-coat than a 
frock-coat. There is no honor at all in a blue tail-coat, 
however, except on a gentleman of eighty, accompanied 
with brass buttons and a buff waistcoat. There is more 
honor in an old hunting-coat than in a new one, in a uni- 
form with a bullet-hole in it than one without, in a fus- 
tian jacket and smock-frock than in a frock-coat, because 
they are types of labor, which is far more honorable 
than lounging. Again, light clothes are generally placed 
bove dark ones, because they cannot be so long worn, 
and are therefore proofs of expenditure, alias money, 
which in this Avorld is a commodity more honored than 
©very other ; but on the other hand, tasteful dress is al- 
ways more honorable than that which has only cost much 



172 



DRESS. 



Li^ht ^kves are more esteemed than dark ones, and the 

prince of glove- colors is undeniably lavender. 

■ I should say Jones was a fast man," said a friend to 
tie one day, " for he wears a white hat." If this idea of 
\\\y companion's be right, fastness maybe said to consul 
mainly in peculiarity. There is certainly only one sit p 
from the sublimity of fastness to the ridiculousness of snob- 
berry, and it is not always easy to say where the one ends 
and the other begins. A dandy, on the other hand, is the 
clothes on a man, not a man in clothes, a living lay figure 
who displays much dress, and is quite satisfied if you praise 
it without taking heed of him. A bear is in the opposite 
extreme ; never dressed enough, and always very roughly ; 
but he is almost as bad as the other, for he sacrifices 
everything to his ease and comfort. The off-hand style of 
dress only suits an off-hand character. It was at one time 
the fashion to afect a certain negligence, which was called 
poetic, and suppt sed to be the result of genius. An ill- 
tied, if not positively untied cravat was a sure sign of an 
unbridled imagination ; and a waistcoat was held together 
by one button only, as if the swelling soul in the wearers 
bosom had burst all the rest. If in addition to this the 
hair was unbrushed and curly, you were certain of passing 
for a i; man of soul." I should not recommend any young 
gentleman to adopt this style, unless indeed he can mouth 
a great deal, and has a good stock of quotations from the 
poets. It is of no use to show me the clouds, unless I can 
positively see you in them, and no amount of negligence 
in your dress and person will convince me you are a ge- 
nius, unless you produce an octavo volume of poems pub- 
lished by yourself. 1 confess I am glad th i the n'glig^ 
Ityle, so common in novels of ten years back, has beer 



STYLES OF DRESS. 



17] 



succeeded by neatness. What we want is real ease ii thg 
clothes, and for my part I should rejoice to see the Knick- 
erbocker style generally adopted. 

Besides the ordinary occasions treated of before, there 
re several special occasions requiring a change of dress 
Most of our sports, together with marriage (which some 
people include in the sports), and going to court, coma 
under this head, Now with the exception of the last, the 
less change we make the better in the present day, par- 
ticularly in sports, where, if we are dressed with scrupu- 
lous accuracy, we are liable to be subjected to a compari- 
son between our clothes and our skill. A man who wear? 
a red coat to hunt in, should be able to hunt, and not 
sneak through gates or dodge over gaps. Of wedding- 
dress and court-dress we shall speak in separate chapters 
under the heads of " Marriage" and " The Court." But 
a few remarks on dresses worn in different sports may be 
useful. Having laid down the rule that a strict accuracy 
of sporting costume is no longer in good taste, we can dis- 
miss shooting and fishing at once, with the warning that 
we must not dress well for either. An old coat with large 
pockets, gaiters in one case, and, if necessary, large boots 
n the other, thick shoes at any rate, a wide-awake, and 
a well-filled bag or basket at the end of the day, make up 
a most respectable sportsman of 'the lesser kind. Then 
for cricket you want nothing more unusual than flannel 
trousers, which should be quite plain, unless your club 
haj \dopted some colored stripe thereon, a colored flannel 
riiirt of no very violent hue, the same colored cap. shoes 
with spikes in them, and a great coat. 

For hunting, lastly, you have to make more change, if 
anly to insure your own comfort and safety. Thus cord 



174 



BE ESS. 



breeches and some kind of boots are indispensable. So 
are spurs, so a hunting-whip or crop ; so too. if jdu do 
not wear a bat, is the strong round cap that is to save 
your valuable skull from cracking if you are thrown on 
your head. Again, I should pity the man who would at- 
tempt to hunt in a frock-coat or a dress-coat ; and a scarf 
3ith a pin in it is much more convenient than a tie. But 
beyond these j'ou need nothing out of the common way, 
but a pocketful of money. The red coat, for instance, is 
3sly worn by regular members of a hunt, and boys from 
Oxford who ride over the hounds and like to display their 
:i pinks. " In any case you are better with an ordinary 
riding-coat of dark color, though undoubtedly the red ia 
prettier in the field. If you will wear the latter, see that 
it is cut square, for the swallow-tail is obsolete, and worn 
only by the fine old boys who c< hunted, sir, fifty years 
ago, sir. when I was a boy of fifteen, sir. Those were 
hunting days, sir ; such runs and such leaps." Again, 
your " cords" should be light in color and fine in quality 
your waistcoat, if with a red coat, quite light too ; your 
scarf of cashmere, of a buff color, and fastened with a 
email simple gold pin ; your hat should be old, and your 
cap of dark green or black velvet, plated inside, and with 
a small stiff peak, should be made to look old. Lastly, 
for a choice of boots. The Hessians are more easily clean- 
ed, and therefore less expensive to keep: the " tops" are 
more natty, Brummell, who cared more for the hunting 
dress than the hunting itself, introduced the fashion of 
pipe-claying the tops of the latter, but the old originai 
' i mahoganies," of which the upper leathers are simply 
polished, seem to be coming into fashion again. 

We shall now pass to a subject which, in every respect 



HUNTING— COSTUME*. 



176 



h a much largei and more delicate one ; larger in the 
space it covers in the surface of the globe ; larger in the 
number of items which go to make it up ; larger in the 
expenditure it demands ; and larger in the respect of the 
attention paid to it. If it takes nine tailors to mat 
i man, it must surely require nine women to make 
Ihorough milliner 



CHAPTER IV. 



lady's dress. 

Fjr from baing of the opinion expressed by Cachari&e 
cf Arragon, that " dressing time is murdered time," the 
woman., we are apt to think, who has not some natural 
taste in dress, some love of novelty, some delight in the 
combination of colors, is deficient in a sense of the beauti- 
ful. As a work of art. a well dressed woman is a study, 
That a love of dress is natural in woman, and that it 
has some great advantages, is so plain as to be scarcely 
worth recording. It does not follow that it should engross 
every other taste : it is only the coquette's heart, which, 
as Addison describes it. is stuffed with " a flame-colorer* 
hood." From the days of Anne Boleyn, who varied her 
dress every clay, and who wore a small kerchief over her 
round neck to conceal a mark thereon, and a falling sleeve 
to hide her doubly-tipped little finger, dress has had its 
place in the heart of Englishwomen. And it is as well 
that it should do so : for the dowdy, be she young or be 
she old. is sure to hear of her deficiencies from her hus- 
band, if she has not already done so from brothers and 
fancy cousins. Indifference and consequent inattention to 
dress often show pedantry, self-righteousnes3, or indolence ; 
and whilst extolled by the " unco gude" as a virtue, may 
be noted as a defect. Every woman should, habitually, 
make the best of herself. We dress out our receiving 
rooms with natural flower3 : are their inmates to look u> 
(176) 



THE LOVE OF DRESS. 



177 



consistent with the drawing room over which they preside J 
We make our tables gorgeous, or at all events seemly^ 
with silver, glass and china ; wherefore should our wives 
be less attractive than all around them? Amongst the 
rich and great, the love of dress promotes some degree of 
exertion and display of taste in themselves, and fosters in 
genuity and industry in inferiors ; in the middle classes 
it engenders contrivance, diligence, neatness of hand; 
among the humbler it has. its good effects. But in thus 
giving a love of dress its due, the taste, the consistency, 
and the practicability of dress are kept in view ; the de- 
votion to dress which forms, in France, a " Science apart," 
and which occupies, it must be allowed, many, too many 
an Englishwoman's head, is not only selfish, but contemp- 
tible. So long as dress merely interests, amuses, occupies 
only such time as we can reasonably allot to it, it is salu- 
tary. It prevents women from indulging in sentiment ; it 
is a remedy for maladies imaginaires ; it somewhat re- 
fines the tastes and the habits, and gives satisfaction and 
pleasure to others. 

Besides, an attention to dress is almost requisite in the 
present state of society ; a due infiuer.ee in which cannot 
be attained without it. It is useful, too, as retaining, 
even in the minds of sensible men, that pride in a wife's 
appearance which is so agreeable to her, and which mate- 
rially fades during the gradual decay of personal attrac- 
tions. " No one looked better than my wife did to-night 
is i sentence which one often rejoices to hear from tb 
lips of an honest hearted English husband, after a party 
oi a ball, how much soever we may doubt the soundness 
of his decision. 

But whiLit the a 1 vantages of a love of dress are ad- 

8* 



LADY'S 1RK53. 



milted, how mournfully we approach a consideration of 
its perils. A love of dress, uncontrolled, stimulated hj 
eXjUetry and personal vanity until it cancels every righl 
principle, becomes a temptation first and then a 3urse 
Not to expatiare upon the evils it produces in the nay of 
example, the envy an undue passion for and excess in dies, 
excites, the extortionate class of persons in the shape of 
toilleners and dressmakers it unduly enriches, and the 
enormous expenses it is known to lead to when indulged 
criminally, that is, to the detriment of better employments, 
and beyond the compass of means, let us remember how 
it implies selfishness and vanity, and causes remonstrances 
and often reproaches from the person most likely to suffer 
from his wife's indulgences — her husband. 

Analyze the bill of a fashionable milliner when the 
dresses, of which it comprises a fabulous reckoning, are 
even only half worn out. What gauzes, and odds and 
ends of lace, and trimmings, useless after a night or two's 
wear, and flouncings and furbelows and yards of tulle il- 
lusion it enumerates ! Tulle illusion, indeed ! all is il- 
lusion ! and yet for this a husband's income is charged, 
often at an inconvenience, or a wife's allowance encum- 
bered, or angry words engendered, or the family credit 
impeached ; and. worse than all. charity and even justice 
must be suppressed, on account of this claim from a mil- 
liner as remorseless as she is fashionable, for these two 
points are generally in the same ratio. Then there is 
•mother evil ; it has been found that the indulgence in 
pc ra raal luxury in women has an injurious effect on the mor- 
al tone. It is in some natures the first symptom, if not 
tne causas, of a relaxation in virtue : at all events it in 
often mistaken for such. A woman of simple habits, ac 



LUXURY AND EXTRAVAGANCE. 



conpanied with nicety and good taste, rarelj goes wrong 
ax any rate is rarely supposed to do so. Luxury in dress 
at first an indulgen je, becomes a necessity : discontent, a 
sense of humiliation, and a yearning for what cannot be 
Lai, are the effects of that withdrawal of the power of 
extravagance which so often happens in this changing and 
commercial country. 

We used to point to America as the country in which 
excessi ve dress was a reproach ; the rich silks, the foreign 
lace, the black satin shoes, and the de colli e evening dress 
of the fair inhabitants of New York, even in Broadway, 
are themes of comment to us all. We used to wonder at 
the French dame du monde, who gives six hundred pound? 
for her set of winter sables. Instances are not wanting, 
either, in Vienna and Bavaria, of ladies who spend seven 
or eight hundred a year on dress, independent of jewelry. 
It is remarked in Paris, that habits of luxe in every shape, 
but especially in dress, have come in with the present re- 
gime. The old Legitimist families, though habitually and 
innately studious in dress, prided themselves on their ele- 
gant simplicity, as distinguishing them from bourgeoisie 
The Court of Louis Philippe was remarkable for its home- 
liness ; and the Queen and the Duchess of Orleans se 
an example of a noble superiority to the vanities of life. 
Few carriages were kept, comparatively ; and where la- 
dies cannot have carriages, they must dress plainly in the 
streets. But w r ith the marriage of Louis Napoleon, tho 
Empress has, probably without intending it, been tic 
Originator of extreme richness and variety in dress ; and 
the contamination has spread to England. Never did 
women require so much. Every lady, and even every 
lady's maid, must now have her petticoats edged with 



180 



LADY'S DRESS. 



work. The cost of pocket-handkerchiefs is soiljiI In ^ 
marvellous ; the plain fine cambric, than which nothins 
is more appropriate or more agreeable, is only fit for oui 
inferiors. Cuffs, collars, jabots^ chemisettes, are a genu? 
that half ruin a lady of moderate means. Until lately 
flounces went into such extremes that it required twenty 
or two-and-twenty yards to make a dress for the wife of a 
hard working physician or lawyer ; but, happily, the ex* 
cess has cured itself France, in returning 2;ood sense , 
now decrees that everything shall be plain. Trimmings, 
that snare to the unwary, out of which dressmakers made 
fortunes, and husbands lost them, are put down. How 
long this salutary change may continue no one can tell ; 
but a woman of sense should be superior to all these va- 
riations. She should keep within the bounds of the 
fashion. Sh', should not dress out that perishable piece 
of clay with money wrung from the hands of an anxious, 
laborious husband : or taken, if her husband be a man of 
fortune, from his means of charity. 

The proportion of what amongst the great we call pin- 
money, and amongst their inferiors an allowance for dress, 
is a very difficult matter to decide. Consistency, in regard 
to station and fortune, is the first matter to be considered. 
A lady of rank, the mother of three beautiful, ill-fated 
daughters, is reported, "to be able to do" with two thou- 
sand a year for dress ! A monstrous sum ; a monstrous 
sin S3 co spend it ! When we look into the details of a 
recent bankruptcy case, in which the items of the famous 
Miss Jane Clark's bills for the dresses of two fashionable, 
and we must add most blamahle. women were exposed, the 
secret of these enormous sums for dress is revealed, It 
consists in reckless orders ; and their results, fabulous 



ALLOWANCE FOR DRESS. 



1.81 



prices. A lady once followed the late excellent Princess 
Augusta into the rooms of a Court milliner. Having 
waited until that illustrious *ady had retired, it was ti in- 
fer the humbler customer to make her selection. She asked 
the price of a dress, apologizing therefor, for she was inucb 
impressed by the r#yal and dignified aspect which had pre | 
ceded her. " Don't make any apology, ma'am," was the 
Court milliner's exclamation ; " her Royal Highness never 
orders an article without asking the price ; and I always 
like to receive ladies who ask prices ; it shows that they 
intend to pay." 

The cost therefore of dress depends so much on the pru 
Jence as well as on the discrimination of a lady, for she 
should know how to choose her dress, that it is difficult to 
lay down any rule of expenditure. For married womei. 
of rank, five hundred a year ought to be the maximum; a 
hundred a year the minimum (and there are many peers 
who cannot easily afford to give their wives even so much). 
The wives of ministers, and more especially of diplomatists, 
who require to appear frequently either in foreign courts, 
or in our own, may require five hundred, or even more, 
though I am persuaded very few of our ambassadorial ladies 
have so much to spend. 

With regard to unmarried women, what a revolt amongst? 
them thpre would be if old Lord Eldon were now alive tc : 
lay down, as he did, as a maxim, that forty pounds a yeai 
was enough for any girl not of age, even if she had largi- 
expectations ; and that was all he allotted to a ward of 
Chancery wIk, was heiress to five thousand a year. It 
was, perhaps, too little. In a trial, in which a celebrated 
barrister, who had an extravagant wife, was sued for dress- 
makers' bills for his reckless spc use, the judge stated that 



182 



lady's dress. 



sixty pounds a year was an ample allowance for the wife 
of a professional man. and beyond that bills could not be 
recovered. That was essentia) : more was extravagance. 

Certainly these legal authorities were moderate in thcil 
views : especially as no women are so extravagant — none so 
luxurious, generally, as the^sives of successful barristers. 

The Times, whose range and power seem to resemble 
the elephant's trunk that can pick up a pin or crush a man, 
in a late sensible and amusing " leader. " made a remark 
which will comfort struggling professional men. and. gen- 
erally, be thankfully received by all who need some au- 
thority to aid in keeping the milliner's bill within due 
bounds. It was simply to the effect that a tasteful, care- 
ful lady, with the start of a moderately good trousseau, 
ought (and many do) to make twenty pounds a year suffice 
for the dress of herself and children during the first few 
years of married life, and this without any compromise of 
respectability. 

Much, however, depends on management . much on the 
care taken of dress. In these respects the French are in- 
finitely our superiors. Even the grandes dames of Paris 
are not intimidated by their maids into throwing awav a 
half- worn dress : on the contrary, everything is turned to 
account. On entering the apartment of a coutwriire one 
day. a lady was struck bv the elegance of ribbon trimming 
on a court-train. The cmiturure smiled, and pointed to 
an old dress from which the still unsoiled ribbon had been 
taken. This was to be the dress, and the ladv saw it the 
uex: night at the Tuileries. and knew it at once: in this 
the sister of a Due and Mar 'dial of France, herself a 
Countess, appeared. VTe should find it impossible to get 
any ma ntua- maker to perforin such an act of virtuous econ 



ALLOWANCE POR DRE33 



188 



#my in favor of an English customer. Ti c due care of 
dress is also a great point towards a reasonable economy. 
In England, ladies think it becoming their dignity to he 
indifferent to the preservation of their dresses when on. 

In France the reverse is carried to an excess. 41 T once 
foil owed, " said a lady, " a French lady in her carriage, as 
we both went to the same party. Her dress was composed 
of an exquisite tulle, with puffings of the same light ma- 
terial. She stood up in her carriage the whole way, for 
fear of crushing it." 

Whatever may be thought of this over-care of the dress 
in the higher classes, the habit of conservativeness is of 
vast importance to women in the middle class, and yet, 
strange to say, it is less common in them than among the 
great. Old families are mostly conservative of personali- 
ties ; it is a remarkable feature in them, and to it we owe 
those relics of times long gone by, which, had they been 
new in the present day, would have been deemed scarcely 
worth the presf rvation. 

But w T hilst tco much cannot be said against extravagance 
and destructive ness, it must also be stated, under the head 
of the minor virtues, the wonderful art some people have 
of making a good appearance on small means. " A man's 
appearance," says the good, old-fashioned, sensible Spet- 
tator, u falls within the censure of everyone that sees 
him ; his parts and learning very few are judges of." So 
in regard to women. No stranger knows the heart that 
beats beneath an ill-made gown, or the qualities of head 
that lie hidden beneath a peculiar old-fashioned, 01 hideous 
cap. A woman may be an angel of goodness, a Minerva 
in wisdom, a Diana in morals, a Sappho in sentiment; yet 
if she wears a scilcd dress where all around are in new 



184 



lady's dress, 



and fresh dresses, or has an ill arranged bonnet or head* 
dress, esteem, even affection, will not resist a smile or a 
sigh ; and the mere acquaintance will have every right tc 
jeer at what seems to imply an ignorance of the habits of 
good society. 

i^ext in injury to her who practises extravagance of 
dress, is extravagance in fashion. From the middle ages 
the English ladies have been bad dressers. Witness Queen 
Mary when married to Philip EL of Spain, spoiling the 
effect of a superb wedding-dress, in the French style, by 
wearing a black scarf and scarlet shoes, which, it has been 
sarcastically observed, was worse than burning Protestants. 
During the last century head-dresses rose to a stupendous 
height, each lady carrying on her head a tower composed of 
a cushion, on which the hair was drawn back, and clubbed 
or rolled on the top of the neck. On this fabric were 
arranged feathers, flowers, pearls dangling in loops, rib- 
bons, and old point lace. Sometimes a tiny mob-cap waa 
stuck on one side ; the whole was so immense that even the 
huge family coaches were too small, and the ladies usually 
sat with their heads hanging out of the window of the car- 
riage. Powder was a main ingredient, and hair-dressing 
was indeed a science. On great occasions the hair-dresser 
waited on our fair ancestresses betimes ; belabored their 
tresses with the powder-puff, and, with what looked like 
the end of a candle, a pomatum-stick, until no trace ef 
m;turt could peep out to mar the belle. Then he placed 
the cushion, sticking it on with long pins of wire : next 
he struck here and there the bows, or feathers, or flowers. 
After an hour's torture, in which neither back must be 
bent, nor head moved, he left her, not to repose, but to sit 
as if in a vice until the patches or mouches were stuck oe 



EXTRAVAGANCE IN FASHION. 



185 



skilfully ; the tight corsets drawn to an agony point ; the 
pointed and heeled shoes put on over the well-pricked silk 
stocking ; and the dress that could have stood alone, com* 
posed over a fortification of strong whale-bone that sprung 
out a great circumference, being a series of bands, regu- 
lated by a spring, and constituting that great feature of 
full dress — the hoop. 

In Paris, there was a champion of low heads in the 
person of a Swiss, who, not being able to see over these 
turrets of heads at the grande opera, used to cut away, 
as one does at evergreens, right and left, in order to clear 
away the view. At last, the ladies, in dismay, and alarm- 
ed at his scissors, gave him up a front place ; but, even- 
tually, the ridicule thus cast on the mode banished it, or 
helped to do so, and a less absurd coiffure came into vogue. 

The art of placing patches on the face and neck was of 
earlier origin, and came in during the reign of Charles n. 
It was of French origin ; and Henrietta of Orleans, the 
sister of the Kfhg, was amongst the first to display mouches 
or patches at court. This time even Mrs. Pepys was per- 
mitted by her husband to wear them ; and the vanity of 
the H-devant tailor spoke forcibly in these words : — " The 
Princess Henrietta is very pretty ; but my wife, standing 
near her, with two or three black patches on, and well- 
dressed, still seems to me much handsomer than she. 77 
Patches long held their reign : and went out only with 
rouge, having even survived the reign of powder. 

A t length a more natural taste dawned in England : bu 
it was reserved for Mrs. Siddons first to appear on the 
Btage without powder, and her own rich dark hair arranged 
in massive tresses on her fine head. 

Towards the beginning of the present century came in 



88 



iaADY'S dress. 



:be extremes of tight dresses and shor: waists. The skirta 
of dresses were made as scanty as possible, and gored, that 
is, made much wider at the base than at the top. There 
was an inch of sleeve, and two inches of bodclice. It ^ai 
impossible not to be indelicate, unless you put on what was 
called a " modesty-piece," or tucker, formed of lace 01 
worked muslin ; even then the requisite propriety was al- 
most unattainable. As to the hair, that was drawn up tG 
the top of the head, and two or three curls worn in front, 
just above the eyebrows. Since hoops had been outra- 
geous, and head-dresses had obstructed the view of Hei 
Majesty's liege subjects, society thus revenged herself. 
Politics, too, at that time influenced fashion. Then came 
the Brutus crop, in which style many of our fair ances- 
tresses are depicted ; this was in compliment to the Roman 
heroism of the First Consul, Bonaparte, and was caught 
up in England. Small Leghorn hats, like men's hats, were 
all the vogue, and were in their turn displaced for high- 
crowned bonnets with an inch or two of poke, which yield- 
ed, in due course, to the cottage-bonnet, or cap it e. 

The hair at this time was getting higher and higher, 
until, about twenty years ago. it reached the giraffe — a 
bow of hair, or two. or even three bows raised on trian- 
gular pins made on purpose, and fastened skillfully into 
the hair; over this rose the bow called — in compliment to 
the first appearance of two giraffes in this country — the 
giraffe bows. Their reign was short, and the hair sank 
down to the very extreme, and ringlets, which reached the 
very waist, and plaits low down in the neck behind, suc- 
ceeded. There was a transient reign of the Oldenburg 
lx)nnet, introduced by the beautiful Duchess of Oldenburg 
when she visited this country in 1818. This bonnet wa* 



CHANGES 0£ FASHION. 



167 



nothing more nor less than a coal-scuttle in straw, and 
turned up round the rim ; it was tremendously warm to 
wear ; and caricatures were drawn at the time showing a 
gentleman's difficulty in making love to his inamorata, 
whose face was enclosed in the Oldenburg bonnet. Th§ 
effect of a number of these bonnets collected in a small 
space was ludicrous. A very pretty simple cottage, after 
all the best style, succeeded the Oldenburg. About 1821 
the gored skirts gave place to those slightly gathered, or 
plaited round the figure. There was a perfect revolt against 
this fashion ; many elegant women heading the malcontents. 
Happily they were obliged to yield, and the loose and full 
flowing dresses came into fashion, and kept their place, 
after a disgraceful interregnum of very short petticoats, 
only not showing the knees; which extreme, it is believed, 
induced the adoption of full and long skirts. 

With occasional deviations, the form of the dress has 
not very greatly varied since the grand revolution which 
discarded gores, until that counter-agitation which brought 
in crinolines. This innovation is well exemplified by 
merely recalling the degeneracy in costume of the Impe- 
rial arbitress of fashion who introduced it. At one of the 
Tuileries • balls in 1852, a young Spanish lady was the 
theme of all tongues. She was dressed in white, with a 
beautiful circlet of black velvet on her head ; on this circlet 
were stars of diamonds. The hair, blond doree ; the brow, 
alabaster; the somewhat melancholy eyes, with their long 
lashes, the regular but rather rigid pupil, were justly ad- 
mired. Mademoiselle de Montijo, as she then was, m& 
sparkling with happiness; the Emperor, that general tvliG 
has since wel'-nigh dethroned Austria, yet, spared Venice., 
faal that night signified his intention of making Eugenic 



183 



LADY'S DRESS. 



da Montijo Empress of Fiance, by placing or her heaJ a 
white flower ; she was radiant with excitement. 

Her figure, however, was the subject of all praise It 
was slight, and perfectly well dressed. The dress was 
tight in the corsage, and full, moderately full, in the skirt 
Since then, what a change ! That small, but matchless 
form, far more remarkable for grace than for dignity cornea 
forth encumbered, unnaturally enlarged, and indeed do- 
formed with an excess of fulness which can only be sup- 
ported by a device which in principle is the grandchild of 
the hoop. As she walks, the petticoats shake about, and 
the artifice underneath is revealed. The Empress is there , 
but the beautiful tournure of Eugenie de Montijo is lost 
in the mass of bouffons and flounces over the invisible 
though protruding crinoline. The infatuation has spread 
from the palace to the private house ; thence even to the 
cottage. Your lady's maid must now needs have her crin- 
oline, and it has even become an essential to factory girls. 
The smart young needlewoman has long thought that 
neither she, nor any one else, could appear without it. 

That there are some advantages in this modern fashion, 
cannot be denied. On State occasions it gives importance, 
shows off a dress, and preserves it from trailing on the 
Boor. For walking, it has the recommendation of keeping 
the dresses out of the dirt : which may to some extent 
compensate for the very unpleasant and visible effect of 
carrying one's tails behind one," since the skirt oftec 
shakes about as if there was a balloon around the person 
Otherwise, the crinoline is unnatural — as some wear it, in- 
delicate — and cumbersome, and gives an appearance of 
width below that is pefectly frightful. Now, however, the 
esce33j seems abating. As if to make the contrast greater 



CRISOLIKE. 



those who so expand below, do not hesitate, hi many in 
stances, to contract above, by tight lacing ; but this also 
is a custom that has very much decreased of late years. 
Formerly, instances were frequently known of young ladies 
nearly perishing under the self-imposed torture of what 
any not be inaptly called the waist-screw, A physician 
at dinner one day with his family, was summoned by 
knocks and rings to a house in the same street, where ther* 
had been a dinner party. The ladies had just retired uo 
the drawing-room, when, suddenly, the youngest and fair- 
est of them fell fainting back into her chair. Restoratives 
t*ere applied, but consciousness did not return. The phy- 
sician came ; he was an aged and practical man. well 
versed in every variety of female folly. He took out hi3 
penknife ; the company around thought he was going to 
bleed the still unconscious patient. "Ha, this is tight 
lacing!" he suddenly said ; and adding, *' no time to be 
lost," he cut open the boddice of the dress ; it opened, and, 
with a gush, gave the poor young lady breath ; the heart 
had been compressed by tight lacing, and had nearly ceas- 
ed to act. In another moment it would have been too late ; 
the action of the heart would have ceased altogether. 

It has been found, also, that the liver, the lungs, the 
powers of the stomach, have been brought into a diseased 
state by this most pernicious habit. Loss of bloom, fixed 
redness in the nose, eruptions on the skin, are among it? 
sad effects. If prolonged, there is no knowing to what 
malady tight lacing may not tc ^d ; its most apparent 
•fleet is an injured digestion, and consequent loss of ap 
petite. Of this, however, it is often difficult to convince 
the practised tight-lacer : for vanity is generally obstinate.* 

No girl should wear bones or steels until she has done 



190 



LADY'S DRESS. 



growing. Until then a boddice. close-fitting, but njl 
tight, or even a mere flannel waistcoat, is all that shculd 
be allowed, if a mother wishes to avoid seeing her child 
with a curved spine. During the reign of tight, lacing 
and of stays so stiff, that when spread out they resembbd 
a hoard in texture, seven women in ten were crooked. 
Whole families leaned on one side or the other. " You 
are no worse than your neighbors,' 5 was the common ex- 
pression of any surgeon called in to attend in a case of 
curvature of the spine. That is not the case now, to 
nearly such an extent. 

But looking at tight lacing without consideration of its 
effect on health, and merely as its tendency to improve or 
to injure the appearance, nothing can he more absurd than 
to believe that it is advantageous to the figure. A very 
small waist is rather a deformity than a beauty. To see 
the shoulders cramped and squeezed together, is anything 
but agreeable : the figure should be easy, well developed 
supple : if ^Nature has not made the waist small, compres 
sion cannot mend her work. Dress may do much to les- 
sen the awkward appearance of a thick waist by clever 
adaptations ; \\v the use of stays both easy and well fit- 
ting :' by a little extra trimming on the shoulders, which 
naturally makes the waist, appear smaller. All this may 
be done without injury; no stays can answer the purpose 
bo well as those made by a good French stay-maker, who 
hag the art of taking a son of model cf the figure by the 
extreme exactness of her measurements. The stays are 
made single, and therefore fit better than double ones ; 
they give with every movement. Those lately introduced, 
¥,hieh fasten at once, are not so advantageous to the fig- 
are as the old fashioned plan of lacing behind, but are 



HOW I aR FASHION MAY BE FOLLOWED 191 



admirable in point of convenience and despatch. By their 
aid, elderly ladies who have not dressed themselves, but 
have been dressed by a maid for years, have become inde- 
pendent ; a great benefit to health and despatch. The 
slight exertion of dressing one's-self, the gentle exercist 
it induces after repose, the excellent habit of order, and 
the necessity it imposes of throwing off the thoughts, that 
may perhaps too much have occupied the mind during the 
hours of a wakeful night, render the operation of dressing 
to those in fair health, a very salutary exertion. 

It is often disputed how far ladies are justified in fol- 
lowing the fashion of the day ; how far they could be 
praised or blamed for conforming or for resisting the iniln- 
ences around them in that respect. To adopt the prevail- 
ing fashion, but not carry it to excess, seems the most ra- 
tional line of conduct ; none but a great beauty, or a per- 
son of any exalted rank, can deviate, and hope to escape 
ridicule, from what fashion has introduced. Even in the 
^knowledged beauty, there is a presumption in doing so. 
Yet there were during the last reign three lively sisters, 
ill now ennobled by marriage, who, at Court, when all 
were crowned with plumes, then worn like a crest on the 
head, nine or twelve in number, went to the drawing-rooms 
with a small feather on either side, and without diamonds : 
it was a courageous feat, but the effect was good, and pro- 
duced, some thought, the reduction of plumes at Court. 

A reasonable and tasteful acquiescence in the rapij 
changes — if not too rapid — in the modes of dress, is sen- 
sible »nd convenient. 'No single individual can success- 
fully oppose the stream of fashion. Everything that is 
peculiar in dress is, we are convinced, more or less objec- 
tionable. Dr. Johnson was nraising a lady for being very 



192 



LADY d DRESS. 



well dressed. "I am sure she was well dressed, 1 ~iq re 
iterated, '"for I cannot remember what she had on,' 
Now. bad not the lady's dress been modern in the fashion 
ha would have been struck with some anomaly, some pe- 
culiarity in form or colors The general effect was ad* 
imraMe; what more could be wished? details are impoi- 
fcant to the dress-maker and to the tailor: it is effect that 
tells on society. Too much importance cannot be assigned 
to the harmony of colors. No nation in this respect offends 
so greatly as the English : they mistake gaudiness for effect, 
or dowdiness for elegance. When full colors are in fash- 
ion, a ladv. however well dressed, will look ill if she ad- 
hcres to the delicate pinks and almost invisible blues which 
prevailed some years since, lovely as those pure and soft 
hades are. She will, however, require an artist's eye to 
combine the more glowing shades skilfully, in order to es- 
cape being the parroquet of the company. A certain 
duchess, noted for the magnificence in which her stately 
person is arrayed — so stately is it. as to bear down even 
royalty itself in queenly dignity — is so aware of the im- 
portance of combining colors well, that one of her fern- 
rnes de chambre is a " combination maid."' selected on ac- 
count of her judgment in colors ; thus, every toilette for 
the day or night is submitted by her : the shawl is affront- 
ed with the gown : the bonnet is made to suit with both 
The wreath of flowers is to be in keeping with the rich 
boddice, the boddice with the sweeping train; the rich 
jewelry, taken from a casket almost unparalleled rmong 
the subjects of any country, must not eclipse, but heighten 
the tints of the dress : the whole is placed for inspection, 
as an artist dresses up a lay figure ; and the repute of the 
combination- maid is staked on the result. White was thai 



MORNING DRESS. 



gorgeous lady's favorite attire ; white, scarce purer 

the face, " call it pale, not fair white, which u torn* 

bines" with every hue, ornament, or flowers : but the 

loveliness may now have fled before the approach of time 

and rich colors have been selected as the appropriate 

for that middle age which is so beautiful in English wcmei* 

and in English women alnne. 

After these general remarks, let us come to particulars, 
ad consider what, in modern days, are the different dresses 
appropriate to ev^ry different occasion in the higher and 
middle classes of life. It is true that the distinction be- 
tween these is, ir. many respects, nullified ; that the wife 
cf the merchant dresses much in the same way on ordinary 
occasions as the peeress : still there are nevertheless dis- 
tinctions. 

The peeress, or the baronet's lady, or the wife of a 
minister, or of an opulent M. P., of a very wealthy com- 
moner, should, when she appears dressed for the morning, 
be richly dressed. Silk, or, if in winter, some material 
trimmed with silk or velvet, should compose her dress. 
All that family of half- worsted and half-silk dresses, con- 
venient for ladies who walk much, are unsuitable to mat- 
rons of rank and fortune. Let them leave them to their 
housekeepers (if theiri housekeepers will wear them). 
Rich dark silks, perfectly well fitting, ample in skirt and 
length, with a moderate bastion of crinoline underneath 
Auit the woman of rank. The basque, introduced by tlu 
Empress Eugenie, and now gone out of fashion, was pecu- 
liarly elegant in morning dress : is marked so completely 
the difference between the morning and evening costume ; 
it 13 becoming to most figures ; it is convenient for those 
who like to fasten their own dresses. It is, however, dia- 



194 



LADY'S DRESS. 



continued, and a far less elegant form of dress adopted 
The morning dress of the present day is worn close up 
to the throat and the sleeves are loose and large ; so that 
underneath them, sleeves, richly worked, or trimmed with 
*ace. may be seen hanging down, or fastened round the 
wrist with a bracelet. The fashion of these morning 
dresses varies continually ; but, as a general principle, 
they should be, for a person moderately embonpoint, made 
to fit and show oft the figure perfectly. The accompani- 
ments of sleeves, collars, should be of the most delicate 
and richest work ; the lace choice ; the lady of rank must 
remember that imitations of lace are not suitable to those 
who can encourage art and industry; a lady must also be 
bien chaussee. If stockings are visible, they should be 
of the finest silk or thread ; the shoe well made, slight, 
and somewhat trimmed ; the fashion of wearing gloves in- 
doors, or even mittens, has much died away lately. The 
hand, if exposed, should be habitually well taken care of. 
Nothing is so unlady-like as a hand that is either rough, 
or has become sun-burnt, in which case gloves should be 
used. Too many rings are vulgar. Those worn in the 
morning should be of a solid kind, not pearls or diamonds 
which appertain to full dress ; bat enamel, plain gold, opal, 
perhaps sapphire, carbuncle, may not be inconsistent with 
morning dress, and the same observation may fye applied 
to the brooch. 

There is another style of morning dress which is ele- 
gant, that of the peignoir, a loose robe, which admits of 
great richness of texture : it may be of Cashmere or c-f 
£ne Merino ; it may be made out of a shawl ; of anything 
but silk, which is more appropriate to gowns ; but this 
dress is scarcely suitable to any but the early morning 



MORNING DRESS. 



195 



hours, and ceases to be consistent in the gay tfternocns of 
a London life, when the drawing-room is filled with callers. 

The morning coiffure, be it a cap, or be it the dressing 
of the hair, should be simple, compact, neat. The hair, 
when dressed, should be becomingly but somewhat mas- 
sively disposed. When it is rich and full, a very slight 
head-dress of Mechlin or Lisle lace, for married women, 
at the back of the head, is becoming ; when thin and w T eak, 
a cap should be worn with ribbon coming down in front 
Nothing looks so bad as thin hair, underneath which the 
head is discernible in the day-time. Every ornament on 
the head is in bad taste in the morning ; one views with 
horror huge gold pins, or would-be gold, corresponding to 
ear-rings of the same false description. The peril of being 
induced to wear ornaments so meretricious, is, however, 
more to be dreaded in that class of society below the peeress'tf 
rank, with which it is part cularly inconsistent. The 
French ladies are models of dress when they hold their 
morning receptions. Everything they wear is the best of 
its kind. The few ornaments they permit themselves are 
more elaborate and valuable than dazzling, everything an- 
nouncing, as plainly as if it had been written on their 
doors, that they are in demie toilette. The perfect agree- 
ment of their dress with the hour and the occasion, is the 
secret of its almost invariable success. 

The same rules apply to walking dress, which should be 
juiet in color, simple, substantial, and, above all, founded 
on the science of combination. To see a bonnet adorned 
with crimson flowers, worn with a bright lilac dress ; green 
with scarlet, blue with plum, are sad departures from the 
rules of combination. In a town, even when, according 
to the time of the day, or time of the year, a walking 



lady's dress. 



dress should be simple, there should still be some degree 

of richness in the dress. 

The very dowdy and common-looking style of dress 
sli )uld be avoided : there should always be visible, through 
evjry change, the lady. Some of our ladies of rank, if 
must be allowed, though maintaining well the characteris- 
tics of grandes dames in society, are negligent in theii 
walking dress, and seem to consider that it is only neces- 
sary to put on their dignity when they dress for dinner. 

For the country, the attire should be tasteful and solid 
and strong. The bonnet may still, though plain, and per- 
haps of straw or whalebone, be becoming. The hat. now 
so prevalently used, admits of some decoration, that gives 
both character and elegance. Worn almost universally on 
the Continent in summer, and now in England, it is the 
most sensible as well as the most picturesque covering for 
the head: long feathers, even in the most tranquil scenes, 
are not inappropriate. Cloaks, of a light material for sum- 
mer and stout in the winter, are more elegant and suita- 
ble than shawls, which belong rather to the carriage or 
visiting dress. One point of dress has been much amend- 
ed lately, owing to the good sense of our Queen. It was 
formerly thought ungenteel to wear anything but thin 
Morocco shoes, or very slight boots in walking Clogs 
and goloshes were necessarily resorted to. " The genteel 
disease.'* as Mackenzie calls it. has. however, yielded to 
the remedies of example. Victoria has assumed the Bal 
rnr.ral petticoat, than which, for health, comfort, warmth, 
and effect, no invention was ever better. She has coura- 
geously accompanied it with the Balmoral boot, and even 
with the mohair and colored stocking. With these, and 
the warm cloak, the looped dresses, the shady hat. and, to 



FULL DINNEIl DRESfc. 



197 



complete a country walking dress, soft gloves of the kind 
termed gants de si:de, the high born lady may enjoy the 
privileges which her inferiors possess — she may take a 
good walk with pleasure and safety, and not shiver at the 
aspect of a muddy lane. 

Next, in the description of a lady's dress, comes thy 
carriage, or visiting dress. This should be exceeding! v 
handsome ; gayer in color, richer in texture than the 
morning dress at home. The bonnet may either be aa 
simple as possible, or as rich ; but it must not encroach 
upon that to be worn at a fete, a flower-show, or a morn- 
ing concert. It must still be what the French call " un 
ohapeau de fatigue" A really good shawl, or a mantle 
'rimmed with lace, are the concomitants of the carriage, or 
<t visiting dress in winter. In summer all should be light. 
x>ol, agreeable to think of, pleasant to look at. Nothing 
can be in worse taste than to keep on, till it makes one 
feverish to look at it, the warm clothing of winter after 
winter and even spring have passed away. Then light 
scarfs, of which those worn in muslin are very elegant, 
delicate muslins, slight silks, and grenadines, are infinite- 
ly more suitable, although they are less expensive, to sum- 
mer and its bright hours than the heavy artillery of 
cashmeres and velvets, be they ever so handsome. 

The ordinary evening costume at home admits of great 
taste an 1 becomingness. In some great houses it differs 
little from that assumed at large dinner-parties, except 
that ornaments are less worn. In France, the high dress 
is still worn at dinners, even those of full dress. In Eng - 
land, that custom, often introduced, never becomes gene- 
ral; there is no doubt but that a low dress is by far the 
most beconrng, according to age, complexion, and the styh 



198 



lady's dress. 



of the house — a point always to be taken into cwnsider& 
tion. Yet I should restrict this to dinners by candle-light 
In summer a thin high dress, at any rate, is more con- 
venient and more modest. Since there is something in 
exposing the bare shoulders and arms to the glare of day, 
that startles an observer, the demie toilette of the French 
may here be well applied. The hair should now be fully 
dressed, and with care ; flowers may be worn by the 
young ; caps with flowers by the elder ; ornaments, espe- 
cially bracelets, are not inconsistent ; the dress should be 
of a texture that can beai inspection, not flimsy and inex- 
pensive, but good, though not heavy. The same rules 
may be applied to the ordinary costume in an evening at 
home, except that the texture may be lighter. For all 
these occasions a lady of rank and fortune should have 
her separate dresses. She should not wear out her old 
ball or dinner dresses by her fireside and in intimate cir- 
cles. They always have a tawdry, miserable look. She 
should furnish herself with a good provision for the demie 
toilette. Nothing is so vulgar as finery out of place. 

The full dinner-dress, in England, admits, and indeed, 
in the present days of luxury, demands great splendor. 
The dress may be blue, silver-grey, crimson, maize, lav- 
ender, or (but rare) very pale green ; pink is suitable 
alone to balls ; it may be of any thick texture of silk in 
vogue ; but in the fashion it must be. The dinner dresses 
that last for ever are detestable. Trimmings of Brussels 
lai>e. or of Mechlin, or of Maltese, are preferable to blonde 
or tulle, which are for balls and soirees. The dress should 
be made in the newest fashion ; therefore no rule can be 
set down, except that for staje dinners it should be long, 
and fresh, and sweeping. At large dinners, diamond! 



FULL DINNER DRESS. 



199 



may be worn, but only in a brooch, or pendait from the 
throat ; a full suite of diamonds is suitable to very full 
dress alone. The same rule applies to emeralds, but not 
to },earls. Rows of pearls, confined by a diamond snap. 
I ire beautiful in every dress. They suit either the demit 
toilette, or the stately solemn dinner. If flowers be worn, 
they should be of the very choicest ; ladies have so much 
'me to examine and to criticise after dinner, that too 
much care of minutiae cannot be taken ; if but a rose, it 
should be from the very first hand. The fan, to be con- 
sistent, should also be first-rate ; it may be old, and paint- 
ed after the manner of the exquisite fans in France, for 
which one pays as high as twenty pounds ; or it may be 
a mere invention of the day ; but it must be perfect in 
its w T ay. Nothing is so inimical to appearance as an ill- 
made or soiled glove. There is such a w T onderful mixture 
of economy and prodigality in the highest classes of En- 
glish society, that it is not uncommon to see ladies, re- 
splendent in jewelry, with dirty gloves : in France, to 
which we have, in all ages, looked as to a model, such a 
barbarism could never occur. Every trifle in a lady's 
costume is perfect. She would rather go out in a shabby 
gown than in a collar of false lace, or with dirty gloves, 
or begrimed white satin shoes. It is not so in England ; 
ladies who spend pounds upon a cap or a scarf, will hesi- 
tate before they put on a clean pair of gloves. Dinner 
|>aities are so often the prelude only, in London, to tho 
festivities of the evening, that no strict rules as to dress 
&in be set down. Generally speaking, there is a great 
difference between the dinner-dress and that of the ball, 
A concert, on the other hand, or the opera, requires onlj 
the head to be s nnewhat more adorned than at a dinner 



200 



LADY S DRESS. 



and vet there was a fashion, several years since, of ap- 
pearing even at the Italian opera in the simple toilette of 
a small dinner party. The sortie du bal, or short eve* 
ning cloak, is one of the best modern suggestions for the 
health, and even appearance, of those who attend public 
places or enter into gay society. It should be of white* 
merino, not of scarlet, which spoils the effect of the wreath 
of flowers. All complicated trimmings are inconsistent ; 
but the same rule of perfect freshness and cleanliness in 
respect to gloves is applicable to the sortie du bal. I am 
sorry to say it is violated every night : rows of ladies are 
to be seen with resplendent gems in their hair, waiting for 
their carriages, in sorties du bal that are almost gray from 
the effects of London smoke. The striking relief and the 
contrast produced by one or two clean and fresh cloaks of 
this description is quite singular, and proves the truth of 
the above recommendation. And here let us marvel 
against the wonderful misplaced economy that will not 
permit an English lady to indulge in a new sortie du bal 
" this season.'* whilst she is, at the same time, lavishing 
sums upon all the endless et ceteras which Englishwomen 
of the nineteenth century cannot do without. 

At one of the most brilliant balls at the Hotel de Ville 
in Paris, an order was "given for the company, who were 
to be numbered on that occasion by thousands, to wait in 
relays on the grand staircase leading to the reception- 
ooms, until a certain hour of the night or rather morn- i 
Hig. This order was to prevent a rush to the carriages, 
and the danger incident to such a concourse wishing tc 
leave at the same time. The ladies sat for an hour or 
more on that ample and matchless staircase, to the right 
af which was the artificial pool of water, surrounded by 



BALL DRESSING. 



plants, and lighted by lamps, amid which the spray of a 
fountain cast up crystal drops, which fell dimpling into 
the water again. The light played upon the white cup 
of a large water-lily in the miniature pool, and the scene 
was at once remarkable and brilliant. As I looked around 
from the bottom of the stairs, and about, I could see many 
pale and weary faces, but not one dirty sortie du bal . 
all here as fresh, as clear, as snowy white as if new onlj 
that day ; some lined with cherry color ; others with blue ; 
a few with amber ; most with white. Even after all the 
festivities were over, a Frenchwoman, if she could not 
look well, was resolved to look clean. 

Ball-dressing requires less art than the nice gradations 
of costume in the dinner costume, and small evening party 
dress. For a ball, everything even in married women 
may be light, soinewdiat fanciful and airy. What arc 
called good dresses seldom look well. The heavy, richly- 
trimmed silk, is only appropriate to those who do not dance ; 
dven for such, as much effect should be given to those 
dresses as can be devised. Taste, ingenuity, style, are 
here most requisite. Since the fashions continually al- 
ter, there is no possibility of laying down specific rules ; 
the dress, however, for the married, and for the unmar- 
ried lady of rank or of fortune, should be distinctly mark- 
ed. For the married lady moire dresses, either trimmed 
"with lace, or tulle and flo vers, or white silk — no othei 
color in plain silk looks well — or thin dresses over whit* 
satin, an article which is happily coming into fashior 
again, are most suitable. Diamonds on the head, neck, 
arras, she may wear ; but the decoration of the dress with 
them should be reserved for court-balls, and for court. 
Formerly when diamonds were worn, flowers were eithei 
9* , 




202 



lady's dress. 



considered unnecessary, or even inconsistent; now they 
are frequently intermingled. Small feathers are erai 
worn at balls: and. for the married, produce peihapi 
more effect than any other coiffure ; but they are wholly 
put of fashion on a young lady's head. The unmarried 
indeed, so long as they continue young, will best consul 
their own good looks by as much simplicity as is consist 
ent with fashion. In Paris no ornaments, with the ex- 
ception, perhaps, of a single bracelet, are allowed to the 
jeuue fille : her dress must be white ; the flowers in her 
hair white also. To these general rules there are excep- 
tions, but the appearance of a French ball is that of spot- 
less white ; far different to the full colors ol'ten worn in 
England . 

White tulle over white silk (or white lace), and bou 
quets of flowers, corresponding to the guirlande or ca> 
chepenie on the head, are the favorite dress of the young 
lady. A parure of flowers, consisting of two flowerg 
mingled, is elegant ; for instance, the rose and heliotrope, 
the parure forming the wreath which extends down the 
skirt : or, of white flowers, the acacia. — of blue, the my- 
osocis, — of green, the maidenhair fern : these are all ex- 
quisite ornaments. Even the large white lily forms a 
beautiful parure. The French always make use of the 
flowers in season, but we English are less scrupulous. A 
young lady will wear a wreath of lilies of the val'ey mixed 
with roses, in the depth of the winter: holly and berries 
in June ; scarlet geraniums in spring. Large daisies are 
also liable to suggest ludicrous ideas. That lady's dress 
wants mowing," said a wag. looking at a bemtiful Calle 
dress, covered with white daisies with flaring yellow esa 
tres. 



THE HEAD-DRESS. 



203 



Nothing, however, forms a more beautiftu Lead-dresa 
than natural flowers, carefully mounted. The French 
have a great art of mounting flowers on wire, and many 
of their ladies'-maids learn it ; some of the ladies excel in 
it themselves. For country balls and fetes, the effect is 
lovely ■ and the perpetual variety obtained a source of that 
surprise and novelty which add so much to the effect pro- 
duced by dress. The flowers should be neatly and firmly 
stuck upon wires. Variegated geraniums, and all the white 
varieties only, answer well ; white camellias (the red are 
too heavy), parti-colored carnations, the rose Devoniensis, 
large white lilies, are all suitable to hairs of various shades. 
A. parurc of ivy is elegant — but it has become common ; 
m spring, the scarlet ranunculus has a rich effect ; in win- 
ter, the hellebore or Christmas rose is very appropriate. 
There is one of the carnival balls at Munich, in which the 
custom of wearing natural flowers is almost des rigiieurs ; 
it is on Shrove-Tuesday. Since in that severe climate it 
is difficult to obtain natural flowers in perfection, the 
wreaths are ordered in Paris, and are articles of great ex- 
pense. On seeing them beside even the most exquisite ar- 
tificial wreaths, the effect is striking ; every tint in the 
latter has a want of that transparency which, in the nat- 
ural flowers, is owing to the minute and almost invisible 
globules of water in the petals beneath the cuticle. The 
richest hues pall before the inimitable coloring of nature 
Amongst the garnitures on one occasion, that of the Queea 
of Bavaria was pre-eminently beautiful. She woie on her 
head a wreath of natural roses; in the centi: of each rose 
hung a diamond dew-drop. Her dress was white, trimmed 
down on either side with single roses, encircled with 9 
single row of diamonds each, as if the dew hung round 



204 



lady's dress. 



the petals ; in the centre was the diamond-dew drop. This 
beloved and beautiful princess, now, by marriage, the first 
cousin of the Princess Royal of England, always super- 
intends the arrangements of her own ball dresses, hei 
taste is exquisite, and the ingenuity with which she varies 
her costumes is remarkable. 

As ladies advance in life, the ball-room seems scarcely 
to be their province ; but since many of them are obliged 
to be chaperons, the style of dress most becoming person- 
ally and also most consistent with that character, should 
be considered. Many persons think that it little matters 
what a middle-aged lady wears, so long as she looks neat 
and respectable, and displays a sufficient amount of expen- 
sive lace, diamonds, and so many ells of unexceptionable 
silk or satin. I am not of that opinion ; as long as a face 
is a face fit to present itself to society, so long should 
good taste carefully preserve the fast-fading attractions, 
riot by art and cosmetics, or false curls, or roses round a 
sallow brow, or the lilies of the field, which are appropri- 
ate to youth alone, but by an arrangement of cap or head- 
dress that is becoming to the poor old ruins ; just as we 
like to see the mantling ivy clustering, and say how greatly 
it adds to the beauty of the old devastated fort or chapel. 

Under the head of festive occasions, the court dresa 
must not be admitted. 

This costume consists, first, of an entire dress, gener* 
illy made of some plain but costly silk. 

The dress, therefore, forms one component part ; nest 
eomes the petticoat, usually of some lighter material : and 
lastly, the train. 

The dress is made, even for elderly ladies, low ; and the 
boddice is trimmed in accordance with the petticoat and 
the train. 



COUKT-DRESS. 



205 



The petticoat is now usually formed of rich Brussels 
laee, or of Honiton lace, or tulle; and often looped ur 
with flowers. 

The train is of the richest material of the whole dress 
Formerly it was often of satin ; now it is of moire or glace 
silk, though satin is again beginning to be worn. 

It fastens half round the waist, and is about seven yards 
in length, and wide in proportion. It is trimmed all 
round with lace, in festoons, or on the edge, with bunches 
of flowers at intervals, and is lined usually with white 
silk. 

The petticoat is ornamented with the same lace as the 
train, sometimes in flounces, sometimes in puffings or 
boaffons of tulle, sometimes en tablier. that is, down either 
side. 

The boddice and sleeves are all made in strict unifor- 
mity with the train and petticoat. 

The head-dress consists of feathers, and comprises a 
lappet of lace, hanging from either side of the head down 
aearly to the tip of the boddice. Diamonds or pearls, or 
any other jewelry sufficiently handsome, may be worn in 
the hair, but the two former are most frequently adopted. 
The same ornaments should be worn on the boddice around 
the neck and arms. 

The shoes should be of white satin, and trimmed ac- 
cording to fashion. The fan should be strictly a dress 
Ian ; those spangled are the most suitable for a costume 
which requires everything to be as consistent as possible 
ffith the occasion. 

Having thus treated of the diosses suited to the house 
and to &11 festive ^coa^kms, the^ izmavk* ^nly <J*e r ; 4in# 
urea? to Diee^'oik 



206 



LADY S 0KESS. 



In this particular several changes have been made during 
the last two or three years. The round hat, of masculine 
appearance, is almost always exchanged for a slouched hat. 
sometimes of a round form, and turned up round the bi iix 
— sometimes turned up on either side, and coming wiili i 
point low down upon the forehead — and sometimes thiee 
cornered : all these different forms have their votaries ; 
but it must be acknowledged that the more simple and 
modest the shape, the more becoming. 

Formerly, the neat round hat, masculine in its form, 
was unembellished by even a bow ; but now, a long, sweep- 
ing feather on one, and sometimes on both sides, sets off 
the riding-hat. The color of the feather is varied, but ia 
usually black or brown, like the hat. The feather, it may 
here be remarked, should be full, well-curled, long and 
firm, not thin and weak, as if taken from an ostrich in a 
moulting condition. In winter, the hat should be of felt 
of a soft kind, pliable and durable ; in summer, of a fine 
straw. It is not wise to get a hat made by an inferior 
hand. The style constitutes the grace, and renders it 
either a most becoming or a most tawdry feature in the 
riding-dress. And here let us remark on the great benefit 
of these slouching hats to the complexions which have so 
materially suffered of late years from small bonnets and 
round hats. Health, with delicacy, is the true charm of 
feminine physique, and, as far as a riding costume is con 
cernedj nothing secures the freshness of the face hette% 
ban the slouched hat. It is cool, and permits *he fr^e 
circulation of air around the face, while it protects tne 
eyes, the forehead, and almost the chin, frcm scorching 
heat or withering blasts. 

v inally. as far as regards hats, let a hint be thrown out 



RIDING-DRESS. 



207 



repressing the eccentricities of a fantastic taste : The art 
af riding is in itself conspicuous enough, A ladj decked 
out in that position approaches the mountebank ridei from 
Aetley's or Franconi's. Her costume may be elegant on 
%]] occasions without being outre. The moment her taste 
degenerates so as to produce a striking effect, she may be 
sure she is making a mistake, and nowhere so fatally as on 
horseback. 

We must acknowledge that the change in riding-hats 
has another good effect. The lady equestrian cannot now 
be called masculine. " Bist ein Mann oder eine Mad- 
schen T l cried out a number of little Rhenish boys as a 
young lady galloped through a village near Dlsseldorf. 
The Spectator has a sharp article on the ambiguous ap- 
pearances of these Amazons, as he styles them ; and in 
fact in the last century, when scarlet riding-habits Yv T ere 
often worn, it must have been difficult on the riding- field 
to have distinguished a lady from a gentleman ; but now 
there is something picturesque, stylish, and inconsistent in 
the modern slouching hat, the sweeping feather, and be- 
neath them the rich clusters of hair bagged, and so con * 
fined in a net of black chenille. 

The habit has sustained some changes, and, as far as ap- 
pearance is concerned, not for the becter. It used to be 
invariably tight, well-shaped, with close sleeves. It is now 
often made loose, with deep cuffs, or, if worn tight, a loose 
jacket, or casaqne, can be put over it — an advantage in 
cold weather, but certainly not to the figure, which is 
never seen to more advantage, be it bad or good, than in 
a tight body, such as the old riding-habit. A plain white 
collar of fine lawn should be worn with the habit, deep lavsn 
cuffs underneath the sleeves, while gauntlet gloves of thick 



208 



LADY'S DRESS. 



leather, and no ornaments, save perhaps a delicately- twined 
whip, need be displayed. Compactness and utility are the 
requisites for the riding-dress ; and, whilst touching on 
this point, let us impress strongly the danger arising from 
too long a skirt in the riding-habit : it is apt not cnly to 
alarm horses, but to entangle, in case of accidents, their 
fair riders. 

There, as in other cases, the principle of all that relates 
to dress should be consistency and suitableness. If these 
are once lost sight of — if fifty apes fifteen — if the countess 
dresses worse than her own housekeeper, or the maid vies 
with her mistress — if modest middle rank puts on the 
garb of fashion — if good taste and good sense cease to be 
the foundation of the important wtek, then all special di- 
rections will be unavailing. 



i 



CHAPTER V 



ACCOMPLISHMENTS 

Lord Byron in one of his letters tells us that he u\ghi 
Lave heen a beau, if he had chosen to drink deep ami 
gamble fast enough. In Ben Johnson's time the main points 
of a " compleat gentleman" were to swear a new oath in 
gvery sentence, " By the foot of Pharaoh," " As I am a 
gentleman and a soldier," and so forth; to take tobacco, 
and swear over its virtues ; to be able to run friend or foe 
through the heart with a bodkin ; and to write a copy of 
silly verses to a by no means inaccessible mistress. Beau 
Brummell had only three pet points : the way he took 
snuff, opening the box with one hand, the ease with which 
he cut an old acquaintance, and the grace with which he 
bowed to a new one. Lord Chesterfield seems to think 
that if a man can ride, fence, and dance well, he is skilled 
enough for good society. The three requirements are 
worth noticing. The first was essential, if you would have 
male friends, in days when knighthood was not quite a 
shadow ; the second allowed you to make good enemies, 
and kill or keep them ; the third fitted you for the society 
of women. 

The accomplishments of to-day, though they differ ir 
many respects, have the same general bearing. In a mar 
they are the arts required to keep a friend, to make ai 
enemy, and to charm a woman ; in a woman, to surpass a 
rival and to captivate a man of more taste than heart 
For both, however, they have a far higher object, thai 

(209) 



210 



ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 



namely, of giving pleasure to our-fellow -creatures in seme 
form or other, and of increasing the general harmony of 
society. They are in fact those corollaries to the problcu 
of education, by which a person is fitted not only to 11 pass." 
Dut tc "take honors"' in the social examination. Wliili 
it is impossible to deny that a man may be a perfect gen 
tleman, a woman a well-bred lady, and both of there 
agreeable in society, without a single accomplishment, we 
all of us feel that such a person must either possess nc 
usual wit. like Dr. Johnson, who had not one accomplish- 
ment to add to his sound sense and learning, or be one 
who, content to fill a quiet corner in life, does not care to 
emerge from it even for the benefit of others. 

Accomplishments have a heavy run against them in the 
present day, and are decidedly at a discount. Give me," 
cries Paterfamilias, bringing his fist with a heavy thump 
down on the table, " give me good sterling practical know- 
ledge, and none of your pishty-wishty humbugging accom- 
plishments." Paterfamilias, you err, like many a British 
father, and in your love of the practical, you are blind to 
the immense advantage of cultivating the beautiful in 
every young soul. Paterfamilias, to take the most serious 
ground with you, it is the practical which shall lead you 
to money bags and account books, but the beautiful which 
shall guide you towards heaven. These same accomplish- 
ments at which you sneer have a much deeper meaning and 
value for your children than merely to shine in society 
They constitute the whole amateurship of art, and in the 
present day to be thoroughly accomplished is to be half 
an artist ; yet the better half. You may not be able tc 
give a concert in Hanover Square Rooms, but you have 
cultivated the music that lies within your soul. And ti ere 



THEIR REAL VALUE. 



211 



is music in every soul, and music is the most beautiful ex- 
pression of peace and harmony ; and harmony is the most 
beautiful law of nature, of creation, the first rule of 
God. You may not be able to exhibit a picture in th# 
Royal Academy, but you have learned to copy God 7 
work, and learning to copy you have learned to observe 
and to know ; and to know God's work, is to know God in 
His work. Believe me, Paterfamilias, the study of art 
rightly undertaken is the study of God, and it is by cul- 
tivating the beautiful that you approach heaven. 

I do not say that every man can be a Crichton, but I 
do say that every man should aim at that character in 
some w r ay, both for his own sake and that of those around 
him. How much more so a woman, whose very mission is 
to make life less burdensome to man, to soothe and comfort 
him, to raise him from his petty cares to happier thoughts, 
Co purer imaginings, towards heaven itself. 

At first sight accomplishments seem to belong to women 
more than to men, but if we look more closely into the 
subject we shall find that a man has a double necessity 
upon him ; he must be fit, on the one hand, for the society 
of men, on the other for that of women, and this involves 
a double list of acquirements; while those of women, 
which make them charming to men, fit them also for the 
company of their own sex. 

Thus we must refuse in this case the place aux dames. 
and take the men first. To mix comfortably with tho 
societj of his own sex must be the first obiect to a man, 
properly so called, and to do this he requires to know a 
certain number of arts which are common among hii 
awn. 



212 



ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 



Foremost of these is the art of self uefence, whicn is 
one which society constantly calls into requisition. For- 
tunately the duel is gone out of fashion, and a man nee J 
not now, as in the days of good Queen Bess, come to t:\vn 
to learn how to pick and take a quarrel, and how to get 
well out of it when made. Fencing in England is n< w 
nothing more than an exercise, no longer qualifying a man 
to take his place a3 a gentleman among his betters ; but 
that which has succeeded to it is not without its importance, 
and the " compleat gentleman" should be able to use his 
fists. Low as this art is, and contemptible as are those 
who make a profession of it, it is nevertheless of impor- 
tance to a man of every class, for a good blow often solves 
a difficulty as readily as Alexander's sword cut the Gor- 
dian knot. There are men whom nothing but a physical 
punishment will bring to reason, and with these we shall 
*iave to deal at some time of our lives. A lady is insulted 
or annoyed by an unwieldly bargee, or an importunate and 
dishonest cabman. One well-dealt blow settles the whole 
matter. It is true that it is brutal, and certainly should 
be a last resource ; but to last resources we are often driven, 
and a show of determination brings impudence to an ar- 
mistice. I would say, then, know how to use your fists, 
but never use them as long as any other argument will 
prevail, but, when all others fail, have recourse to that 
natural and certainly most convincing logic. A man, 
therefore, whether he aspires to be a gentleman or not, 
should learn to box. It is a knowledge easily gained, 
There are but few rules for it, and those are suggested by 
common sense. Strike out, strike straight, strike sud- 
denly ; keep one arm to guard, and punish with the other 



BOXING. 



Two gentlemen nc vei fight ; the art of boxing is only 
brought into use in punishing a stronger and more impu 
dtffct man of a class beneath your own. 

There is good in everything, and there is a view to 
take of the pugilistic art which compensates in some mea- 
sure for its brutal character in this country. The fist has 
expelled the sword and pistol. The former indeed went 
out about the beginning of last century, and Beau Nash, 
though by no means a coward, did his best to put down 
the wearing of a weapon which was a perpetual temptation 
to commit polite murder and disturb the harmony essen- 
tial to good society. There could be no comfort and no 
freedom in conversation when, instead of politely differing 
with you, a man's hand moved to his sword-hilt. It is no 
argument against me that the rapier is still worn at court, 
for I feel convinced that nine-tenths of those ornamental 
but utterly useless appendages would never be induced to 
quit their scabbards, and, even if drawn, would be of no 
more value than a stick in the hands of at least nine-tenths 
of their courtly owners. 

But it was another kind of biped w r ho put down duelling, 
and a cock-pheasant of Wimbledon-Common, jealous, no 
doubt, at seeing the powder which ought to have been 
used for him, thrown away upon a human being, or per- 
haps anxious to try whether a bullet tasted better than. 
*hot, who had the honor of making these encounters so 
superbly ridiculous, that to call a man out in the present 
day is equivalent to calling him a fool and confessing your- 
self idiotic. There are those, however, w T ho regret the 
palmy days of twelve paces and coffee for four, and tell 
us that the fear of a hole in the waistcoat kept many as 
impudent man in his place and restrained unwarrantable 



214 



ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 



familiarity. With all submission I would suggest that the 
fear of being knocked down on the spot, and having his 
beauty spoiled, is likely to be much more persuasive to a 
man who can offend in this manner. But will you kindly 
look across the water either way. and tell me if the si 1 1 j 
Custom, kept up both in Europe and America, has thert 1 
the effect of awing men into even decent politeness ? In 
the latter country, especially, where a "difficulty" almost 
always ends fatally, it is by no means uncommon for a 
complete stranger to put his hands into his pockets, cock 
his eye at you, and inform you by way of introduction, 
" Wall, I guess you're a tarnation loggerhead, yeeou 
aire,*' proceeding to pass comments on your nationality, 
your personal appearance, and your general mental ca- 
pacities, according to the * : guess,'' "reckoning," or '' : cal- 
cyoo-lation" of the speaker. If you were to meet these 
with astonishment, indignation, anger, or, in short, in any 
way but by the retort personal and direct of the tu quoque 
description, you would be looked on as a disagreeable, 
testy, and pugnacious Britisher, and the rest of the com 
pany would probably request you to " shut up." In fact 
so universal is insolence in America, that even in what is 
Jiere called good society — the ;> up town"'" sets— -you are 
liable to be assailed with the grossest epithets, and it is 
only after being bespattered with essence of Billingsgate, 
that you would be allowed to remark, *' ; Wall, that's some. 
that is ; I reckon my dander's rig a bit after that.*' Of 
course these remarks do not apply to New York, which 
in civilisation, is as far in advance of the States generally 
&s London is of the Hebrides. 

It is no longer necessary, therefore, to give the etioxiettt 
©f duelling, which may be gathered, as a curiosity, frow 



FIELD SPORTS. 



215 



almost every novel written twenty years ago. It would 
be as sensible to give the etiquette of murder. As to ita 
immorality, it has been discussed again and again, and the 
custom has been finally condemned on that score. 

Of course to knock a man down is never good manr ers !( 
fiut there is a way of doing it gracefully, and one rule 
should be observed, viz., whether you can command your 
temper or not, never show it, except by the blow. Never 
assail an offender with words, nor when you strike him, 
use such expressions as, "Take that," &c. There are 
cases in society when it is quite incumbent on you to 
knock an offender down, if you can, whether you feel an- 
gry or not, so that, if to do so is not precisely good man- 
ners, to omit it is sometimes very bad manners ; and to 
box, and that well, is therefore an important accomplish- 
ment, particularly for little men. 

It is decidedly a relief to quit that subject, and I am 
not ambitious of emulating those gentlemen of the sword 
of Queen Elizabeth's day, who, for a small gratuity, would 
decide for you whether your honor was hurt or not — a 
question they usually contrived to answer in the negative 
to the great relief and satisfaction of the applicant. 

Our field sports have been so often and justly lauded 
that I shall not now speak of them in a constitutional point 
of view, but their effect on society is a matter cf no small 
interest, and it is extremely agreeable to Englishmen to 
be reminded of points of their superiority over their neigh 
bors. I am inclined to think that our love of sports, ii 
it spoils the London season, and makes dancing a torment, 
does none the less assist our women to be virtuous, and 
our men to be noble. The effect of a want Df good, healthy 
out-door amusements is to make of a man either a carpet- 



216 



ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 



knight, or a hanger about cafes. The life of cities ten«t8 
to demoralize, and anything which takes a man away 
from a town for a time has its value. Thus hunting 
shooting, riding, driving, cricket, and sc forth, are as im 
port ant elements of social life as dancing and music, 
to be ignorant of their art will not only exclude one fruui 
much charming society we might sometimes enjoy, but 
will often cause us to put others to great inconvenience, 
if it does not equally annoy ourselves. Often in the 
country there is no other conveyance but a horse and sad- 
dle to be had. What are we to do if we cannot ride ? 
Still oftener the whole arrangement of some party of 
pleasure depends on our being able to leave the coachman 
behind, and it is to us. the only gentleman perhaps, that the 
ladies apply to take his place. How, then, if we cannot 
handle a whip ? Then, too, in the country, riding and 
driving are such common accomplishments, that besides 
the inconvenience, our ignorance of them subjects us even 
to ridicule. What more laughable than a man jolted up 
and down on his horse, till his hat slips to the back of his 
head, his hair flies about, his trousers creep up to his 
knees, and his face expresses either pitiable misery, or lu- 
dicrous discomfort ? On the other hand, to hunt, shoot, 
handle a bat, or a billiard-cue, though by no means ex- 
pected of every man, are often the only amusements in 
the country, and we may, if ignorant of them, not only 
he shut out from them ourselves, but even oblige our host 
to give them up on our account. In fact the more of 
gueh accomplishments you know, the less tedious will your 
life be to yourself and your company to others, and though 
wit and conversation are worth all the amusements whicb 
a toy-maker could dream of, you must not forget that the 



RIDING. 2i7 

world is mainly peopled with fools, and that to appreciate 
your sallies, and join in your mirth, requires an amouni 
of sense which is not to be found in every country bump- 
kin. Should the weird sisters, in a fit of bad temper, 
send you by express to sojourn for a month with a gen 
tleman farmer or small hunting squire, what can you do 
but shoot, ride, or drive with him? Will your heavy- 
headed host, who dreams of patridges, and vacillates be- 
tween long-horns and turnips in his waking thoughts, cara 
for your choice club-gossip, understand your fine-edged 
wit, or thank you for your political news and Parliamen- 
tary prospects ? No, no ; you must relate, slowly and 
surely, how on such a day in such a year you " met" at 
such a village, " dmw ' such a cover, threw T off in such 
a direction, " cast ; £t such a spot, ran for so many min- 
utes, and made so many wonderful, probably also apocry- 
phal, leaps during that period. Relate how many birds 
you bagged, what score you made at any insignificant 
cricket-match, and how vou swam from Barnes to Brent- 
ford against tide and stream. Then, indeed, is your man 
your friend, and he will privately impart to his wife that 
evening that he thinks you " an amazingly fine fellcw," 
which would have sounded very like 41 horrid bore, ,? if 
you had not been able to come out on these subjects. 

I have no intention to trespass on Mr. Rarey's prov- 
ince, and I am further of opinion that equitation cannot, 
like grammar, be learned from a book, bat there are u 
few useful hints about the etiquette of riding, which may 
well be introduced here. The first thing, then, is to 
dress suitably. Boots and cords were once the sine qua 
non of a horseman, but tnough they are very comforta- 
ble, and may still be worn in the country, when you are 
10 



218 



ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 



not going to ride with ladies, they have been Iuva dieted 
in town j and would mark you out as a riding-master. On 
the other hand, you must avoid too fine a dr< ? ss / such as 
patent leather boots, and should wear a cut-away in pre- 
ference to a frock-coat. Above all. let the stick or whip 
be simple, with no gold head, no flummery about it. Ici 
the country, you may have what is commonly called a 
M crop,'* with a bone handle at the end; for town, you 
may take either an ordinary walking-stick, or a gentle- 
man's riding-whip, mounted simply with silver. In all 
other respects, your dress should be that in which you 
walk. The lady's dress has been described in the last 
chapter. 

A man who rides without ladies requires no groom to 
follow him, and a young man particularly should never 
take one, even though he intends to make calls. A lady, 
on the other band, should never ride alone, except in 
quiet parts of the country. In London she would be 
taken for a demoiselle du cirque, and in the country she 
would be liable to accidents, with no one to assist her. A 
young lady should not ride out without a gentleman, as 
well as a groom, and, under most circumstances, mamma 
would decidedly object to that gentleman being youmf 
and single, unless he were a very intimate friend. 

Having thus arranged your dress and your party, you 
go down and mount — no, you do not mount yourself, but 
assist the ladie3. There never was so lame a legend as 
liiat of a certain lady of Coventry, whom Tennyson and 
Thomas the Inquisitive have rendered celebrated. Of 
course it is very pretty, and we who honor women as we 
should (though we burnt la Pucelle d' Orleans), and 
have had a range of noble ones from Boadicea to Florence 



MOUNTING AND THE SEAT. 



219 



Nightingale, can well believe that Godiva was as modest 
as she was merciful ; but have we ever asked — who as- 
sisted Iter ? Perhaps you will tell me that till a very 
recent period, no stable-yard was without a flight of three 
stone-steps standing by themselves, and that women al- 
ways mounted from these. I know it, and have seen 
hundreds of them in the western counties; but before 1 
admit your argument, you must show me that these steps 
existed in the days of the fair equestrian who wore no 
garb but modesty; you must prove that those people are 
wrong who describe the ladies of the olden time as mount- 
ing from the shoulder of a serving-man or a gallant. 

However this may be, neither steps nor shoulders are 
so good as a steady hand, which is the means patronized 
by modern horsewomen. The lady having gathered up 
her skirt, and holding it in her left hand, must place her- 
self as close as possible to the horse, with her face towards 
the animal's head, and her right hand on the pummel. 
The gentleman, whose part and privilege it is to assist 
her, having first obtained her consent to do so, then places 
himself at the horse's shoulder with his face towards the 
lady, and, stooping a little, places his right hand horizon- 
tally at a convenient elevation from the ground. On tliO 
palm of this hand the damsel sets her sweet little bfl 
foot, and it is then the gentleman's duty to lift it with a 
gentle motion as she herself springs upwards. But lic- 
ware that you do not jerk it up too suddenly, lest \ he 
lose her balance and be thrown back over the saddle I 
have seen a lady nearly killed by awkward mounting. 

A man should be able to mount on either side of ihe 
horse, and ladies who ride much and wish to keep their 
figures straight, change the side from time to time. Whep 



•220 



ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 



the lady is in the saddle you should offer to put her foot 
in the stirrup and to pull down the skirt, and you then 
give her the reins, and proceed to mount yourself. Mr. 
Rarey teaches us to do so without stirrups, and a man 
who would be graceful should practise this on either siflr. 
A horse, like most other animals, has two sides. The oii€ 
itliich is to our left when we are in the saddle is called 
the near, the othe: the off side, and it is on the forme) 
tbat we generally mount. We place our left foot in the 
stirrup, our left hand on the saddle, and swing ourselves 
up. throwing the right legover the creature's back. Noth- 
ine is more graceless than to see a man climb with both 
hands into his seat. 

The seat itself is one of those things which must bo 
learned by practice. The chief rules are : sit upright, 
but not stiffly, and well back in the saddle ; stick the 
knees into the sides thereof, and keep the feet parallel to 
the horse's body, the toes turned in rather than out. The 
foot should be about half-way in the stirrup, which in 
rough-riding may be allowed to slip down to the hollow 
of the foot. The greatest obstacle to good riding is want 
of confidence, and this cat scarcely be acquired, except 
by beginning at an early age. If you cannot ride de- 
cently, you had better not attempt it in company, if you 
would not risk the fate of Geordie Campbell,; — 

M Saddled, and bridled, and booted rode he, 
Hame cam his gude steed, but never cam he M 

The rule of the road need not be observed in riding a3 iu 
driving, but you should always ride to the right of the 
lady who is with you. lest you risk crushing her feet. 
Your own, of course, you must not care about. When 
you meet people whom you know on horseback, you have 



HUNTING. 



221 



no right to turn and join them, unless invited to do so. 
If you overtake them, on the other hand, you have a 
right to ride with them ; but if you are not wanted, you 
will be careful about exercising the privilege. 

About hunting I shall say little, because I know little, 
fvhich is a confession you will find it the wisest plan to 
make in the country. I shall only advise you not to 
hunt unless you have a good seat and a good horse, and 
never accept the loan of a friend's horse, and still less 
an enemy's, unless you can ride very well. A man may 
forgive you for breaking his daughter's heart, but never 
for breaking his hunter's neck. Another point is always 
to be quiet at a meet, and never join a small meet unless 
you know some one in the field. The first essential for 
hunting is pluck ; the second, skill ; the third, a good 
horse. Avoid talking of your achievements, enthusiastic 
shouting when you break cover, and riding over the 
hounds. Whatever you do, do not injure one of those 
precious animals. 

There is a grace in riding which no jockey, no profes- 
sional huntsman ever acquires. When once you have 
confidence, ease may soon follow ; but without much prac- 
tice, you will always be more or less stiff in your seat. 
A lady should be careful to sit straight in the middle of 
the saddle, with her face full towards the horse's head. 
Whatever the motion of the animal, you should attempt 
%o cling as closely as possible to the saddle. The Aus- 
trian officers pride themselves on being able to trot for 8 
mile with a glass of wine in one hand, and not spill a 
drop of it. In England we rise in trotting, as a relief to 
ourselves and the horse, but this is never done in any 
otliei country. The first rule, is to rise, not from til* 



222 



ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 



stirrup, but from the knees; the second, to rise as little 

as possible The man who "shows daylight" between 
himself and his saddle is a bad rider. A lady should 
rise even less than a man, and neither of them should leaq 
over the horse's neck, nor hold the reins in both hands 
But I am not a riding-master, and I am trespassing on 
his ground. 

Driving, again, is an accomplishment of butcher's boys 
and hansom cabmen as much as of " gentlemen," but there 
is a vast difference in the style. One rule may be given 
at once, and we may unhesitatingly affirm that Jehu the 
son of Nimshi was "no gentleman," when we remind 
you that to drive furiously, as well as to ride furiously, is 
not only forbidden by law, but a low, cruel, ungentleman- 
like habit. 

" The beggar mounted rides his horse to death." 

If you drive too fast, I am tempted to ask whether the an- 
imal is your own, and whether you know its value. I may 
add. that if wise you will never drive other people's horses 
unless asked to do so. The rule of the road in England 
is a curious instance of our national distinctiveness. In 
every other country that I know, the law is simple enough : 
always keep to the right side of the road. In this land, 
on the contrary, you must take the left when you meet, 
and the right when you pass. The custom, I believe orig* 
mated in that of shaking hands with every one you met 
which reminds me of a pretty one they once had. and ever 
now retain in some parts of France, that of a man and 
lady riding hand in hand together. I have even ridden 
arm in arm with a fair-haired blue-eyed Norman girl, and 
if I did not snatch a kiss there and then, it w r as not foi 



Djx ving. 



fear of losing my balance. Well, our grandmothers used 
to ride on one horse with our grandfathers, tucking their 
fingers into the belts which the latter wore, and seated on 
tbe pillion much more comfortably than their grand 
daughters on the pummel ; but what horses they mum 
Juvs had in those days ! 

But to return to driving. It is a simple art, requiring 
care rather than aught else, unless it be a knowledge of 
the dispositions of the horse or horses you undertake to 
drive. One horse or a pair can give but little embarrass- 
ment, and you will seldom be called upon to drive tandem, 
unicorn, or four in hand. But, perhaps, more accident:* 
occur in turning corners than in anything else, and I should 
not do my duty, if I did not advise you, when the corner 
is on your right hand, to give it a wide berth ; when on 
your left, to turn it gently and as slowly as possible. 

The exercises which come rather under the head of 
games, such as cricket, rackets, tennis, bowls, skittles, and 
a dozen others, are by no means compulsory on any man 
to know, and I shall therefore leave their description to 
the many and various guide-books destined to introduce 
the young athlete to British Olympics. But I may re- 
mark that, while these games are purely republican in 
spirit, and my lord, if clumsy, ranks lower for the time 
than the skilful villager, it is no way difficult to distinguish 
the well-bred man, whether a good player or not. For 
while he yields entirely to the excitement of the game, ho 
will refuse to join in the silly familiarities to which it 
sometimes leads. You will never hear him banter another 
on his bad play, nor. as too common in some games, ^ill 
he vent oaths and strong epithets on some one who has 
made a gross error. When he does so himself, he will 



224 



ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 



confess himself wrong, and not clamorous!}' defend him- 
self; and. if he has to ask another player for anything 
he will call to him in an affable not an impatient com- 
manding tone, and use some such phrase as : ,; may I trouble 
you for that ball, sir?'' not "Ball, you there,*' as one 
sometimes hears it. In short, he will retain, under the 
excitement of the game, the same good bearing which he 
displays in society. 

Similar observations apply to all kinds of out-dooi 
amusements, such as shooting, boating, and so forth. A 
gentleman will never attempt to monopolize the sport, and 
however superior in skill to his companions, will not parade 
his superiority, still less boast of it, but rather, that the 
others may not feel their inferiority, he will keep considera- 
bly within his powers. If a guest or a stranger be of the 
party, the best place and the best sport must be offered to 
him, even though he may be a poor shot, a bad oar, and so 
on ; but, at the same time, if a guest knows his inferiority 
in this respect, he will, for more reasons than one, prefer 
in inferior position. So, too, when a certain amount of 
exertion is required, as in boating, a well-bred man will 
offer to take the greater share, and will never shirk his 
work. In short, the whole rule of good manners on such 
occasions is not to be selfish, and the most amiable man 
will therefore be the best bred. 

I Talking of boating reminds one of old college davs. and 
the healthy happiness that exercise used to bring one. It 
is certainly desirable that a " compleat gentleman " should 
be able to handle an oar as well as a gun, both that when 
he has the opportunity he may get health, and that he may 
be able to take part in the charming excursions which are 
made by water. In fact a man ought to be able to turn 



SPORTS. 



his hand to almost everything, and, what is m jre, should 
do himself whatever he can. It is a false and vulgar prick 
which prevents a man from stooping to cord his own box, 
carrying his own bag, weeding his own garden, cutting his 
own hedges (for he must take care not to cut anybody 
else's), shutting his own shutters, putting coal on his own 
fire, or what not. To ring up a servant for these things, 
shows either laziness or a vulgar attempt at grandeur. 
Indeed, for my part, nothing seems to me so comfortless 
as the constant entrance of servants ; it interrupts conver- 
sation, and destroys the feeling of ease and privacy. I 
once met, at the house of a lady friend, the son of a man 
who had begun life as a grocer, made his fortune by a sue 
cessful speculation, and settled down in the full conviction 
that he was therefore a " gentleman." My friend had 
requested the young man to put some coal on the fire, and 
as he was rather clumsy about it, he excused himself in 
the following speech : " You see, aw— Mrs. B — , that I 
am — aw — really not accustomed to do this kind of thing, 
don't you see? Now at home, you see, the governor, 
when he wants coals, rings the bell, and the butler comes 
in; 'Coal,' says the old gentleman, and the butler dis- 
appears to tell — aw — -the upper-footman, who thinks it be- 
neath his dignity, and therefore tells — aw — the under 
footman, ^ho comes up and puts it on. 1 ' I thought of the 
Anglo-Indians, who, in this country, have often had no 
more servants than a cook a maid, and a "buttons," and 
lad to da everything for themselves, but who once ir 
India, find it impossible to tie their own shoe-strings, and 
are obliged to keep a twenty-oneth or even hirty-oneth 
servant for equally trivial offices. 

But if a certain amount of skill in out-door amusement! 
10* 



223 



ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 



is essential to a man who wishes to be agreeable, how unci 
more so in those in-door amusements, which are the very 
objects for which people commonly assemble, and are there- 
fore the continual accompaniments of society ? The ait 
of talking is. of course, the first of such accomplishment i 
and as it is a subject of the highest importance and ver^ 
large range, it has been taken up in the preliminary chap- 
ter But besides conversation, and sometimes as an aid to 
it, parties and balls are given for the purposes of lancing, 
music, games (especially cards), and eating and drinking. 
Of the etiquette of these parties I shall speak elsewhere 
I now content myself with a few hints on the accomplish- 
ments themselves which are displayed in them. 

" Thank you — aw — I do not dance/' is now a very 
common reply from a well-dressed handsome man, who i* 
leaning against the side of the door, to the anxious, heated 
hostess, who feels it incumbent on her to find a partner 
for poor Miss Wallflower. I say the reply is not only 
common, but even regarded as rather a fine one to make. 
In short, men of the present day don't, won't, or can't 
dance : and you can't make them do it. except by threat- 
ening to give them no supper. I really cannot discover 
the reason for this aversion to an innocent amusement, for 
the apparent purpose of enjoying which they have spent 
an hour and a half on their toilet, and halfa-crown on a 
hansom cabman. There is something, indeed, in the heat 
of a London ball-room in the middle of July, there is 1 
great deal in the ridiculous smailness of the closets into 
which the ball- giver crowds two hundred people with a 
cruel indifference only equalled by that of the black-hole 
of Calcutta, expecting them to enjoy themselves, wher 
the ladies' dresses are crushed and torn, and the gentle- 



1 DON'T dance." 



227 



men, under the despotism of theirs, are melting away al- 
most as rapidly as the ices with which an occasional waitei 
has the heaxtlessness to insult them. Then, again, it is a 
great nuisance to be introduced to a succession of plain 3 
uninteresting young women, of whose tastes, mode of life^ 
&c. : you have not the slightest conception : who may look 
gay, yet have never a thought beyond the curate and the 
parish, or appear to be serious, while they understand 
nothing but the opera and Lady So-and-so's ball — in fact, 
to be in perpetual risk of either shocking their prejudices, 
or plaguing them w T ith subjects in which they can have no 
possible interest ; to take your chance whether they can 
dance at all, and to know that when you have lighted on 
a real charmer, perhaps the beauty of the room, she is 
only lent to you for that one dance, and w T hen that is ovt;r, 
and you have salaamed away again, you and she must re- 
main to one another as if you had never met ; to feel, in 
short, that you must destroy either your present comfort 
or future happiness, is certainly sufficiently trying to keep 
a man close to the side-posts of the doorway: Eut these 
are reasons which might keep him altogether from a ball- 
room, and if he has these and other objections to dancing, 
he certainly cannot be justified in coming to a place set 
apart for that sole purpose. 

But I suspect that there are other reasons, and that in 
most cases the individual can dance and does dance at 
times, but has now a vulgar desire to be distinguished 
from the rest of his sex present, and to appear indifferent 
to the pleasures of the evening. If this be his laudable 
desire, however, he might at least be consistent, and con- 
tinue to cling to his door-post, like St. Sebastian to hk 
tree, and reply throughout the evening : 1 Thank you, 



228 



ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 



dcn't take refreshments u Thank you, I can't eat sup- 
per : r " Thank you. I don't talk :" " Thank you. I don't 
drink champagne." — for if a London ball-room be purga» 
tory, what a demoniacal conflict does a London supper- 
room present ; if young ladies be bad for the heart, chain 
pagne is worse for the head. 

No, it is the will, not the power to dance which is want- 
ing, and to refuse to do so, unless for a really good reason, 
is not the part of a well-bred man. To mar the pleasure 
of others is obviously bad manners, and though at the 
door-post you may not be in the way, you may be certain 
that there are some young ladies longing to dance, and 
expecting to be asked, and that the hostess is vexed and 
annoyed by seeing them fixed, like pictures, to the wall. 
It is therefore the duty of every man who has no scruples 
about dancing, and purposes to appear at balls, to learn 
how to dance. 

In the present day the art is much simplified, and if 
you can walk through a quadrille, and perform a polka, 
waltz, or galop, you may often dance a whole evening 
through. Of course, if you can add to these the Lancers, 
Schottische, and Polka-Mazurka, you will have more va- 
riety, and can be more generally agreeable. But if your 
master or mistress (a man learns better from the former) 
has stuffed into your head some of the three hundred 
dances which he tells you exist, the best thing you can 
;lo is tc forget them again Whether right or wrong the 
number of usual dances is limited, and unusual ones 
should be very sparingly introduced into a ball, for as few 
people know them, their dancing, on the one hand, become! 
a mere display, and, on the other, interrupts the enjoy- 
ment of the majority. 



THE QUALRILLE. 



229 



TLe quadrille is pronounced to be essentially a aor. ver- 
gatienal dance, but inasmuch as the figures are perpetually 
calling you away from your partner, the first necessity 
for dancing a quadrille is to be supplied with a fund of 
small talk, in which you can go from subject to subjocf ; 
like a bee from flower tc flower. The next point is tt • 
carry ysurself uprightly. Time was when — as in the* 
days of the rtiennet de la conr— the carriage constituted 
the dance. This is still the case with the quadrille, in 
which even if ignorant of the figures, you may acquit 
yourself well by a calm graceful carriage. After all, the 
most important figure is the smile, and the feet may be 
left to their fate, if we know what to do with our hands ; 
of which I may observe that they should never be pocketed, 

The smile is essential. A dance is supposed to amuse, 
and nothing is more out of place in it than a gloomy 
scowl, unless it be an ill-tempered frown. The gaiety of 
a dance is more essential than the accuracy of its figures, 
and if you feel none yourself, you may at least look 
pleased by that of those around you. A defiant manner 
is equally obnoxious. An acquaintance of mine always 
gives me the impression, when he advances in Pete, that 
he is about to box the lady who comes to meet him. But 
the most objectionable of all is the supercilious manner. 
Dear me, if you really think you do your partner an hon-< 
t»r in dancing with her, you should at least remember that 
your condescension is annulled by the manner in whicl 
you treat her. 

A lady— beautiful word ! -is a delicate creature, one 
who should be reverenced and delicately treated. It is 
therefore unpardonable to rush about in a quadrille, to 
catch hold of the lady's hand as if it were a door-handle, 



230 



ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 



or to drag her furiously across the room, as if yon wejrs 
Bluebeard and she Fatima, with the mysteiious closet op- 
posite to you. This brusque violent style of dancing is 
unfortunately common, but immediately stamps a man 
Tinughlwould not have you wear a perpetual simper 
you should certainly smile when you take a lady's hand 
and the old custom of bowing in doin^ so, is one that we 
may regret ; for does she not confer an honor on us by 
Vq action? To squeeze it. on the other hand, is a grosg 
familiarity, for which you would deserve to be kicked out 
of the room. 

" Steps/* as the chasser of the quadrille is called, be- 
long to a past age. and even ladies are now content to walk 
through a quadrille. To be graceful, however, a lady 
should hold her skirt out a little. In France this is done 
with one hand, which I am inclined to think is more 
graceful than holding it with both. It is, however, neces- 
sary to keep time with the music, the great object being 
the general harmony. To preserve this, it is also advisa- 
ble, where the quadrille, as is now generally the case, is 
danced by two long lines of couples down the room, that 
in Pete 3 and other figures, in which a gentleman and lady 
advance alone to meet one another, none but gentlemen 
should a Vance from the one side, and therefore none but 
ladies fron the other. 

Dancing masters find it convenient to introduce new 
figures, and the fashion of La Tn ?iise and the Grande 
Ranch is repeatedly changing. It is wise to know the 
last mode, but not to insist on dancing it. A quadrille 
cannot go on evenly if any confusion arises from the igno* 
ranee, obstinacy, or inattention of any one of the dancers. 
It is therefore useful to know every way in which a figure 



THE VALUE OF QUADRILLES. 



may be danced, and to take your cue from the otinrs. it 
s amusing, however, to find how even such a trilie as a 
choice of figures in a quadrille can help to mark caste, 
and give a handle for supercilious sneers. Jones, the 
other day, was protesting that the Browns were " vulgar, ? 
11 Why so? they are well bred." " Yes, so they are*'' 
"They are well-informed." ''Certainly." "They an 
polite, speak good English, dress quietly and well, are 
graceful and even elegant." "I grant you all that." 
" Then what fault can you find with them." " My dear 
fellow, they are people who gallop round in the last figun 
of a quadrille," he replied triumphantly. But to a cer- 
tain extent Jones is right. Where a choice is given, the 
man of taste will always select for a quadrille (as it is 
a conversational dance) the quieter mode of performing 
a figure, and so the Browns, if perfect in other respects, 
at least were wanting in taste. There is one alteration 
lately introduced from France, which I sincerely trust 
will be universally accepted. The farce of that degrading 
little performance called a setting" — where you dance be- 
fore your partner somewhat like Man Friday before 
Robinson Crusoe, and then as if your feelings were over- 
come, seize her hands and whirl her round — has been 
finally abolished by a decree of Fashion, and thus more 
opportunity is given for conversation, and in a crowded 
room you have no occasion to crush yourself and partner 
between the couples on each side of you. 

I dc not attempt to deny that the quadrille, as no^ 
walked, is ridiculous; the figures, which might be grace- 
ful if performed in a lively manner, have entirely lost 
their spirit, and are become a burlesque of dancing : but, 
at the same time, it is a most valuable dance. Old an^ 



282 



ACCOMPLISHMENTS 



young, stout and thin, good dancers and bad, lazy ana 
active, stupid and clever, married and single, can all join 
in it, and have not only an excuse and oppoitunity for 
ti:te-o-ttte conversation, which is decidedly the easiest, 
but find encouragement in the music, and in some cases 
convenient breaks in the necessity of dancing. A per- 
son of few ideas has time to collect them while the part- 
ner is performing, and one of many can bring them cat 
with double effect. Lastly, if you wish to be polite or 
friendly to an acquaintance who dances atrociously, you 
can select a quadrille for him or her, as the case may be 
Intense patriotism still induces some people to affirm that 
the English country-dance is far preferable to this impor- 
tation from France. These good creatures should inquire 
a little further. I think they would find that the country- 
dance (co?itre-dcmse) came from the same source ax a 
somewhat earlier date. But, however this may be, a 
dance which tears me so completely away from the part- 
ner I have selected, ought in nine cases out of ten to bo 
hateful to me. 

Very different in object and principle are the so-called 
round dances, and there are great limitations as to those 
who should join in them. Here the intention is to enjoy 
a peculiar physical movement under peculiar conditions, 
and the conversation during the intervals of rest is only 
a secondary object. These dances demand activity and 
lightness, and should therefore be. as a rule, confined to 
the young. An old man sacrifices all his dignity in a 
polka, and an old woman is ridiculous in a waltz. Cor- 
pulency too, is generally a great impediment, though 
Borne stout people prove to be the lightest dancers. 
- m The morality of round dances scarcely comes within mj 



THE WALTZ. 



province. They certainly can be made very indelicate, 
bo can any dance, and the French cancan proves that the 
quadrille is no safer in this respect than the waltz. But 
it is a gross insult to our daughters and sisters to suppose 
thein capable of any but the most innocent and purest en- 
joyment in the dance, while of our young men I will say 
that to the pure all things are pure. Those who see harm 
in it are those in whose mind evil thoughts must have 
arisen. Honi soit qui mal y pense. Those who rail 
against dancing are perhaps not aware that they do but 
follow in the steps of the Romish Church. In many parts 
of the Continent, bishops who have never danced in their 
lives, and perhaps never even seen a dance, have laid a 
ban of excommunication on waltzing. A story was me 
told in Normandy of the worthy Bishop of Bayeux, one 
of this number. A priest of his diocese petitioned him 
to put down round dances. " I know nothing about 
them," replied the prelate, " I have never even seen a 
waltz." Upon this the younger ecclesiastic attempted to 
explain what it was and wherein the danger lay, but the 
Bishop could not see it. " Will Monseigneur permit me 
to show him ?" asked the priest. " Certainly. My chap- 
lain here appears to understand the subject ; let me see 
vou two waltz." How the reverend gentleman came to 
know so much about it does not appear, but they certainly 
danced a polka, a gallop, and a troistemps waltz. AH 
these seem harmless enough." " Oh ! but Monseigneur 
has not seen the worst ;" and thereupon the two gentle- 
men proceeded to flounder through a valse d deux-temps. 
They must have murdered it terribly, for they wero 
not half round the room when his Lordship cried out, 
" Enough, enough, that is atrocious, and deserves escoi^ 



m 



ACCOMPLISHMENTS, 



mnmcatioii.' : Accordingly this waltz was forbi Men while 
the other dances were allowed. I was at a public ball at 
Caen soon after this occurrence, and was amused to find 
the ti ois-temps danced with a peculiar shuffle, by way cf 
compromise between conscience and pleasure. 

There are people in this country whose logic is as goaa 
as that of the Bishop of Bayeux. but I confess nay ina- 
bility to understand it. If there is impropriety in round 
dances, there is the same in all. But to the waltz, which 
poets have praised and preachers denounced. The French, 
with all their love of dancing, waltz atrociously, the Eng- 
lish but little better : the Germans and Russians alone 
understand it. I could rave through three pages about 
the innocent enjoyment of a good waltz, its grace and 
beauty, but I will be practical instead, and giv^ you a 
few hints on the subject. 

The position is the most important point The lady 
and gentleman before starting should stand exactly oppo- 
site to one another, quite upright, and not. as is so com- 
mon in England, painfully close to one another. If the 
man's hand be placed where it should be, at the centre of 
the lady's waist, and not all round it. he will have as firm 
a hold and not be obliged to stoop, or bend to his right. 
The lady's head should then be turned a little towards 
her left shoulder, and her partner's somewhat less towards 
b is right, in order to preserve the proper balance. Noth- 
ing can be more atrocious than to see a lady lay her Dead 
on her partner's shoulder ; but. on the other hand, she 
wiL not dance well, if she turns it in the opposite direc- 
tion. The lady again should throw her head and shoul- 
df-ra a little back, and the man lean a very little forward 

The position having been gained, the step is the next 



THE WALTZ. 



Question. In Germany the rapidity of the waltz is very 
great, but it is rendered elegant by slackening the pace 
every now and then, and thus giving a crescendo and 
decrescendo time to the movement. The Russian met) 
undertake to perform in waltzing the same feat as th 
Austrians in riding, and will dance round the room wit I 
a glass of champagne in the left hand without spilling a 
drop. This evenness in waltzing is certainly very grace- 
ful, but can only be attained by a long sliding step, which 
is little practised in England, where the rooms are small, 
and people, not understanding the real pleasure of danc- 
ing well, insist on dancing all at the same time. In Ger- 
many they are so alive to the necessity of ample space, 
that in large balls a rope- is drawn across the room ; its 
two ends are held by the masters of the ceremonies pro 
tern., and as one couple stops and retires, another is al- 
lowed to pass under the rope and take its place. But 
then in Germany they dance for the dancing's sake. 
However this may be, an even motion is very desirable, 
and all the abominations which militate against it, such 
as hop-waltzes, the Schottische, and ridiculous Varso- 
vienne, are justly put down in good society. The pace, 
again, should not be sufficiently rapid to endanger other 
couples. It is the gentleman's duty to steer, and in 
crow T ded rooms nothing is more trying. He must keep 
his eyes open and turn them in every direction, if he 
would not risk a collision, and the chance of a fall, or 
what is as bad, the infliction of a wound on his partners 
arm 1 have seen a lady's arm cut open in sue! a col- 
lision by the bracelet on that of another lady ; and the 
sight is by no means a pleasant one in a ball-room, to &nj 
nothing of a new T dress covered in a moment with blood 



2&G 



ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 



The consequences of violent dancing may be really s©> 
rious. Not only do delicate girls bring on thereby a vio- 
lent palpitation of the heart, and their partners appear in 
a most disagreeable condition of solution, but dangerous 
falls ensue from it. I have known instances of a lady's 
head being laid open, and a gentleman J s foot being broken 
in such a fall, resulting, poor fellow, in lameness for life. 
Nay, even death hovers among the giddy waltzers, and 
Victor Hugo has written a beautiful little poem on girls 
who have died of dancing, of which one verse as a moral : 

*' Quels tristes lenderaains laisse le bal folatre f . 
Adieu, parure, danse et rires enfantins ! 
Aux chansons suceedait le toux opiniatre, 
Au plaisir rose et frais la fievre au teint bleuatre, 
Aux yeux brillants les yeux eteints." 

Be careful of the waltz, be sparing, lest it prove, m this 
Land of consumption, to too many the true dance of death. 
Let us not mingle cypress with our roses. 

It is perhaps useless to recommend flat-foot waltzing in 
this country, where ladies allow themselves to be almost 
hugged by their partners, and where men think it neces- 
sary to lift a lady almost off the ground, but I am per- 
suaded that if it were introduced, the outcry against the 
impropriety of waltzing would soon cease. Nothing can 
be more delicate than the way in which a German holds 
his partner. It is impossible to dance on the flat foot 
unless the lady and gentleman are quite free of one an- 
other. His hand therefore goes no further round her waist 
vfian to the hooks and eyes of her dress, hers, no higher 
than to his elbow. Thus danced the waltz is smooth, 
graceful, and delicate, and we could never in Germ my 
complain of our daughter's languishing on a young man's 



FLAT-FOOT WALTZING. 



237 



shoulder On the other hand, nothing is more graceless 
and absurd than to see a man waltzing on the tips of hin 
toes, lifting his partner off the ground, or twirling round 
and round with her like the figures on a street organ 
The test of waltzing in time is to be able to stamp the 
lime with the left foot. A good flat-foot waltzer can 
dance on one foct as well as on two, but I would not 
advise him to try it in public, lest like Mr. Rarey's horse 
on three legs, he should come to the ground in a luckless 
moment The leg3 should be very little bent in dancing, 
thel)ody i till less so. I do not know whether it be worse to 
see a man sit doron in a waltz, or to find him with his head 
poked forward over your young wife's shoulder, hot, red, 
wild, and in far too close proximity to the partner of your 
bosom, whom he makes literally the partner of his own. 

King Polka has been deposed after a reign of nearly 
twenty years. I cannot refrain from throwing up my cap. 
True, his rule was easy, and he was popular on that ac- 
count , indeed, he has still his partisans in certain classes, 
but not in the best. For what a graceless, jogging, h lag- 
gings sleepy old creature he was ! Then, too, he was not 
even a legitimate sovereign. The good family of the 
Polkas in Hungary, Poland, &c, would not recognize this 
pretender of England and France, who is no more like 
them than that other pretender Mazurka, is like the orig- 
inal spirited, national fling of the same name. It is cu- 
rious to see how our D'Egvilles have ransacked Europe 
for national dances to be adapted to the drawing-room, 
Mid, indeed, there spoiled. The waltz is of German origin, 
but where it is still danced in Germany in the original 
manner (as for instance, among the peasants of the Tyrol), 
it is a very different dance. It is there very slow and 



238 



ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 



graceful ; the feet are thrown out in a single long step, 
\*hich Turveydrop, I presume, would call a jeti. AfteJ 
a few T turns, the partners waltz alone in the same step, 
the man keeping the time by striking together his iron- 
$Led heels, until with a shout and clapping of hands he 
again clasps his partner and continues in the same slow 
treasure with her. The very names of the dances bespeak 
their origin. The Sclavonic nations must have given us 
the Poika, Mazurka, Redowa, Gorlitza, and Eletezka, 
whatever that may be. The Varsovienne and Cracovienne 
are all that remain of Polish nationality. 

" Ye have the Pyrrhic dance as yet, 
Where is the Pyrrhic phalanx gone?" 

gays Byron bitterly to the Greeks, and some future Rus- 
sian agent may perhaps sing to the wearers of the kilt in 
the same strain : — 

14 Ye have the Highland reel as yet, 

Where are your Highland chieftains gone ?'* 

Then the Madrilaine lias been imported from Spain, 
which retains the oriental Bolero, Fandango, and Cachu- 
cha. The last is of purely Eastern character, and might 
be danced by a Nich girl before a Lucknow Prince. The 
Americans with more patriotism than ourselves have pre 
served th^ only national and English dances, the hornpipe 
and jig, and have about twenty varieties of the former in- 
cluding a sailor's, college, gipsy's, and even bricklayer's 
and lamplighter's hornpipe. These American dances have 
names no less eccentric than their drinks. We should 
scarcely care to join in the " Devil's Dream/' for instance, 
and the dance called " Jordan is a hard road" can hardly 
be a favorite out of Hebrew circle { Money Musk" wai 



THE POLKA, GALOP, ETC. 



©nee an English dance. When there was a quarrel be- 
tween the country people and the rich tradesmen at the 
Bath bails, Beau Nash had some trouble to reconcile them, 
but he appropriately sealed his success by ordering the 
bind to strike up " Money Musk/ 5 The u Lancers" arc 
a revival after many long years, and perhaps we may soon 
have a drawing-room adaptation of the Morris-dance 

The only advice therefore which it is necessary to give 
to those who wish to dance the polka may be summed up 
in two words, " don't." Not so with the galop. The 
remarks as to the position in waltzing apply to all round 
dances, and there is therefore little to add with regard to 
the galop, except that it is a great mistake to suppose it 
to be a rapid dance. It should be danced as slowly aa 
possible. It will then be more graceful and less fatiguing, 
It is danced quite slowly in Germany and on the flat foot 
The polka-mazurka is still much danced, and is certainly 
very graceful. The remarks on the quadrille apply 
equally to the lancers, which are great favorites, and 
threaten to take the place of the former. The schottische, 
hop- waltz, redowa, varsovienne, cellarius, and so forth, 
have had their day, and are no longer danced in good 
society. The only dance I regret is the German cotillon, 
which was introduced a few years ago, but not approved 
English people made a romp of it, and English young 
ladies, an opportunity for marked flirtation ; besides which 
English chaperons, not so patient as the same class :n the 
Continent, would not sit through it. Well I reuieinfaei 
the long hours through which we used to keep it up m 
Germany, while mammas and aunts were dozing behind 
fcbeir fans, and how vexed we were when its varied figuxeai 



240 



ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 



1 



invented often on the spot, came to an end, and carriages 
were called for. 

The calm ease which marts the man of good taste, 
mokes even the swiftest dances graceful and agreeable. 
Vehemence may be excused at an election, but not in a 
bull-room. I once asked a beautiful and very clever youny 
iidy how she, who seemed to pass her life with books 
managed to dance so well. "I enjoy it,' : she replied ; 
u and when I dance I give my whole mind to it." And 
she was quite right. Whatever is worth doing at all, is 
worth doing well : and if it is not beneath your dignity to 
dance, it is not unworthy of your mind to give itself for 
the time, wholly up to it. You will never enjoy dancing 
till you do it well : and if you do not enjoy it, it is folly 
to dance. But in reality dancing, if it be a mere trifle, 
is one to which great minds have not been ashamed to 
stoop. Locke, for instance, has written on its utility, and 
speaks of it as manly, which was certainly not Michal's 
opinion, when she looked out of the window and saw her 
lord and master dancing and playing. Plato recom- 
mended it, and Socrates learned the Athenian polka of 
the day, when quite an old gentleman, and liked it very 
much. Some one has even £one the length of calling it 

o o o 

64 the logic of the body;" and Addison defends himself 
for making it the subject of a disquisition. If I say much 
more I shall have to do the same as Addison, and will 
therefore pass to some other accomplishments useful, if not 
necessary, m society. 

On the Continent almost every boy is taught tc play 
the piano. A very false principle has, till lately, kept 
our men from all the softer portion of life ; manliness waa 
identified with roughness, and every accomplishment whico 



MUSIC. 



241 



was suitable tc a woman, was considered beneath the dig- 
nity of a man. In short, it is not fifty years ago since 
to hunt, shoot, and drink your bottle of port, formed the 
only accomplishments necessary for male society, and re- 
finement did not extend beyond an elegance in bowing, in 
taking snuff, and in gallantry to the ladies. Left to 
themselves, men were ashamed to be anything better than 
bears. Fortunately it is now agreed that manliness and 
refinement are not opposed to one another. 

I believe that there is a taste for music in every child 
born, and that if it disappears in after life, it is for want 
of cultivation. Was there ever yet a baby which could 
not be sung to sleep ? However this may be, to play 
some one instrument is of more value to a man than at 
first sight appears. To the character it is a refiner. 
Music is the medicine of the soul ; it soothes the wrinkles 
of a hard life of business, and lifts us from thoughts of 
money, intrigue, enterprises, anxieties, hatred, and what 
not, to a calmer, more heavenly frame of mind. To a 
man himself, therefore, the power to play is of use. He 
may not always have a sister, wife, or daughter, to sing 
and play to him ; he may not always be within reach of 
the opera and concert rooms, and then, too., half the en- 
joyment of music is gone, when you cannot enjoy it as 
I you list, and of what kind you need, gay or grave, as 
jrour fancy lies. It is an indulgence to a pure mind, and 
it is one of those few indulgences which are free from 
harm. 

But besides this, a knowledge of music b valuable to a 
man in the society both of his own and the other sex. It 
is a great recommendation among women, and vibrates on 
a chord of sympathy between the sexes, when possihijf 
11 



ACCOMPLISHMENTS, 



there is no other. Still more so where mm are net 
and their want is felt. The man who can play an air is 
a boon to the camp, the college or the Inn of Court 
Well do I remember how popular Jones was for his piano, 
anl Smith for his cornet, at St. Boniface's. Yet Jones 
*ir.i Smith were very dull men in themselves, and kej t 
very bad wine. What did we care ? We did not want 
to drink with our mouths when we could do so with oui 
ears. But if instrumental music recommend a man. st;D 
more the cultivation of the natural musical instrument. 
l> He can tell a good story and sing a good song/' is al- 
most the best recommendation one bachelor can give of 
another in a social point of view, and if you can sing a 
good ballad, or take part in a duet, quartett. chorus. 01 
what not. you are invaluable in an evening party. 

There are. however, a few points to be attended to in 
connexion with playing or singing in public. In the first 
place, as to a choice of instrument The piano is always 
acceptable, but however good a man's touch, it must be 
remembered, it is not so agreeable in a room as a lady's. 
Ev^ry other instrument should be accompanied by the 
piano, so that unless you have some fair friend ready tc 
play for you. it will be useless to take your instrument. 
But under the most fortunate circumstances, your choice 
is limited. The instrument must not be too loud or too 
harsh for the sensitive tympanum of your fair audience. 
No >ne would volunteer a solo ' n the drum, perhaps : but 
met. who play but little, will sometimes inflict the K mU 
hois 01 comet-c -pistons on thiir unhappy listeners: tltesQ 
two instruments, and indeed every species of horn, caa 
ordv be tolerated in a drawing-room if extremely well 
played, and therefore modulated. On the other band, if 



SINGING. 



243 



you care for yo*~r appearance, you will scarcely introduce 
the violoncello. The fiddle is so common that people 
will not care for it unless played with execution^ unci the 
flageolet is scarcely worth listening to. There remains 
the flute, and the guitar, which is a good accompaniment 
to the voice, but should not be played by a stout or an el- 
derly man. Concerts are so common now, and first-rate 
performers so easily heard, that more than common pro- 
ficiency will be expected from you on any instrument ex- 
cept the piano, and you should therefore never take youi 
instrument with you unless particularly requested to dc 
so by the inviter, nor play more than once unless pressed 
to do so by the lady of the house. 

If you have a tenor or alto voice, a good ear, and a 
knowledge of a few songs, you need never be afraid of 
singing in public. A barytone being commoner, requires 
more excellence to back it, and a base should be prohibit- 
ed, / think, from solo exhibitions, unless very good. But 
be the voice w r hat it may, if you cannot sing in tnne, 
never attempt it. Others in the company will have better 
ears than yourself, and politely execrate you. Time is 
not so important, unless you join a duet, trio, or chorus. 
The choice of songs is quite as essential as the choice of 
an instrument. A man should not sing women's ditties, 
and should never yawl out the namby-pamby ballads be- 
loved of young ladies A really honest love-song, ir 
which the words are as good as the music, becomes a tenor 
or barytone w T ell — scarcely a basso. On the other hand 
the too ferocious style should be avoided. Comic songs 
as a general rule, are atrocious. Their want of wit is 
not atoned for by the presence of slang, vulgarity, or even 
coarseness. They are usually written bj men of inferior 



ACCOMPLISHMENTS 



mind, often for the stage or public entertainments, as J 
are purposely broad, in order to be understood by a m.xed 
audience. On the other hand, if you have essentially a 
comic face and manner, and can sing a parody, or a more 
refined comic song with character, you may attempt it 
gmar parties. In men's society, of course, the comic 
song is the most popular. 

A man singing before ladies must remember their 
nerves, and modulate his voice. He must also bear in 
mind, that however well he sings, a lady's voice is more 
Buited to a drawing-room, and unless pressed to do so. will 
content himself with one or at most two songs. But a 
man should not allow himself to be pressed too much, nor 
affect diffidence like a voun** miss of seventeen. If he 
has not sufu cr played before, he should do so (if he can) 
without he? itation, and with an amiable willingness, being 
confident that the lady of the house desires to amuse her 
guests rather than to natter him. 

In gei>cral society, the card-table in the present day ia 
happily reserved for elderly people, but a young man may 
be sometimes called upon to make up a rubber, and if so 
he would mar the pleasure of others if he were not able 
to take a hand. At the same time it is generally under- 
stood that ladies and young men should not be asked to 
Jo so, unless absolutely necessary, and if a hostess opens 
a card -table, she should be able beforehand to select a 
sufficient and suitable number of players. It is always 
trying to see ladies play. It has been observed that 
women have only two passions, love and avarice. The 
latter ill becomes them, and yet so strong is it, that they 
can rarely conceal it at the card-table. 

Where a number of guests are willing to play, the so- 



MODERN LANGUAGES 



lection is made by drawing cards, and the highest drawers 
are excluded from the game. At whist the two lower 
and two higher drawers become partners respectively ; 
the low r est has the first deal. The trial of temper then 
ensues, and if card playing has no other virtue, it maj 
be commended as a test of temper and good-breeding f 
Lose without a murmur, win without triumph. Nevei 
insist ^o sharply on fines, and be ready to pay on the spot 
[f unable to do this, you should pay the next morning at 
the latest It is always allowable to man or lady to say, 
u I do not play," and the words are understood to mean, 
that though able, you prefer not to do so. If a bad play- 
er, you will do well to keep away from the table ; you 
have a partner's interest to cousult as well as your own. 
As a general rule in good society, it should be understood 
that one does not play for money, but with money. The 
skill rather than the result of the game must be the point 
of interest. 

In round games, which are patronized by people whe 
have not the accomplishments to supply their place, or the 
wit to do without them, the main fault to be avoided ia 
eagerness. Of single games, you should know as many 
as possible. The finest of them is chess, w T hich is worthy 
of any man, and a spleniid mental exercise. Without 
aspiring to be a Morphy or a Staunton, you may by prac- 
tice and thought become an excellent chess player ; but 
the game is not a social one, and requires too much ab~ 
traction to be introduced in social gatherings. 

Perhaps the most useful accomplishment to one's self 
is a knowledge of languages. Independent of the great 
superiority it gives you in travel, and the wide field of 
literature to which it introduces you, you are liable ia 



246 



ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 



really gocd society, especially in high London circles. Tft 
meet with foreigners having a very slight acquaintance 
with English. From them you may derive a vast amount 
of information, turn the slow current of your association*, 
and even be amused more than by any conversation wi h 
your own countrymen. The most patriotic John Bu ] 
now admits that foreigners understand better than our- 
selves the art of conversation, and though we may accuse 
them of frivolity among themselves, we must remembei 
that in English society their first desire is to make them- 
eelves really appreciated. As a rule, too, they are more 
interested than we are in current history, and whatever 
their prejudices or their ignorance, you will rarely meet 
with a Frenchman, Italian, or German, from w T hom you 
may not gather much curious information which will serve 
you elsewhere. An untravelled man is always at som^ 
disadvantage in good English society, where almost every 
one but himself will have crossed the channel, but if he 
has a good knowledge of continental language and litera- 
ture, this disadvantage is materially diminished. 

Ad accomplishment much overlooked as an accomplish- 
ment, but one indispensable to good society, is to be able 
to talk on current literature and passing affairs. Every 
gentleman in the present day should subscribe to a circu- 
lating library, and take in a London newspaper. Besides 
taking in the latter, he should read it with judgment. lie 
should be able to form and give an opinion independent of 
party prejudice on any question of common interest 
Whatever his views, he should be able as a man of sense 
and in order to be agreeable, to look on them independent- 
ly, to support them reasonably, or abanion them gn»co« 
fully. Politics, and even religion, can. [ rejoice to ?iy. ( 



CARVING. 



247 



be discussed in the present day without inflammation and 
acerbity, and, though the latter subject is better avoided 
m mixed circles, a thorough gentleman will be able to bow 
to another's opinion, and to put forward his own delicately 
nv] sensibly. 

There is one more accomplishment which is, fortunately , 
fast falling into disuse. The days are done when an 
awkward servant could anoint your head and best coat with 
& whole dishful of gravy, or an unskilled gentleman might 
be forced to bow to the lady on his right, with : "Madam, 
I'll trouble you for that goose in your lap." Bad carv- 
ing used to spoil three good things on the part of the 
carver, good joints, good temper, and a good digestion. 
Even good carving marred conversation, and to short men 
it was a positive infliction, for I need scarcely say, that 
under no circumstances whatever could a man be permitted 
to stand up to carve. But because the carving of joints, 
game, &c, at a side table, is a foreign custom lately intro- 
duced into this country, there are people still found patri- 
otic enough to prefer carving at the dinner- table. " I like 
the good old English custom," says one; "I like to s^e 
a host dispensing his hospitality himself;" and in the 
country, where some hosts prefer meat to manners, it is 
still retained. But I may ask whether hospitality con- 
sists more in severing the wings from a chicken's body, 
thar in setting all your guests at their ease, and at onco 
leading off the conversation. Does it demand a distribu 
tior of good morsels rather than of good will? The ad 
vacates of the " good old custom" may be reminded again, 
that in former days it was the hostess, not the host, who 
dispensed the viands, her husband being occupied with a 
distribution of the wiue. which is the reason why the ladj 



218 



ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 



Bat at the head of the table ; but what is the v-.lue of an 
old custom universally disregarded, since no longer the 
hostess, but the guest who has the misfortune to take he? 
in to dinner, is called upon to play the part of butcher 1 
Can it be any more satisfactory to me to have my mutter, 
iliccd by a guest than by the butler in my host's service?- 

Another argument maliciously advanced, is contained 
in the sneer : " No, no. thank you, I like to see my din- 
ner, and know what I am eating.'' But what a slur upon 
the hospitality of your host, to suppose he would give you 
a cat for a hare, or a puppy for a rabbit ! We might as 
well insist that he should sup our port before we drink it 
lest there should be poison in the cup — a custom, by the 
way, still retained in Bavaria where the kellnerinn. 01 
waitress, who brings you your quart of beer, invariably 
puts it to her mouth before she hands it to you. But there 
is a reason for that, since many a soldier in the Thirty 
Years' War was poisoned at a beer-garden. 

Carving is, however, still common at small parties and 
family dinners, and it will be a happy time when it is 
abandoned even there. I have seen many an unfortunate 
young man put to confusion when deputed to carve, by the 
anxious looks of the host or hostess, and have even heard 
such atrociously rude remarks as, " Thomas, bring that 
fowl to me ; Mr. Jones seems not to uuderstand it ;" nay } 
I have seen people lose their temper so completely a* 
having their pet dishes hacked by the unskilful, as to pio i 
duce an awkward silence through the whole company 
Then too, in family circles, more quarrels are to be traced 
to a blunt knife or a difficult dish, than even to milliners' 
bills, and I stayed for a short time in one house, whose 
master at last got into a habit of losing his temper ovei 



HINTS ON CARVING. 



24* 



(lie joint, which he carved very ill at all times, and where, 
in consequence, dinner was more dreaded than the pillory. 
Indeed, as great results may often be traced to the most 
trifling causes, I am convinced that half the domestic 
tyranny of the British paterfamilias, and much of the 
bickering and irritation which deprive home of its charms^ 
frsay be traced to no greater cause than the cutting up of 
a joint. The larger the family the greater the misery of 
th^ carver, who has scarcely helped them all round, before 
the first receiver has done and is ready for a second help- 
ing. When at last the hungry father or elder brother can 
secure a mouthful, he must hurry over it, at the risk of 
dyspepsia, in order not to keep the others w r aiting. 

But we are a nation of conservatives, and a custom which 
jescended from the days when a knight would stick his 
dagger into a leg of mutton, which he held by the knuckle- 
bone (hence the frill of white paper still stuck round it, 
to slop in the gravy and look disgusting before the joint is 
removed), and carve him a good thick slice without more 
ceremony, will not soon be got rid of, however great a 
nuisance. It is therefore necessary, if you would avoid 
irritation, black looks, and even rude speeches, to know 
hvw to carve at a friend's table, whatever you may do at 
y<ur own. When thus situated, the following hints will 
be found useful, 

HINTS ON CARVING AND HELPING. 

1. Soup is helped with a ladle. Take care that tin 
lervant holds the plate close to the tureen, and distribute 
tme ladleful to each person. 

2. Fish is cut with a large flat silver kni*e or fish- 
•lice, never with a common one. Of small fish, you send 



260 



ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 



one to each person. All the larger flat fish, such as bur- 
bot John Dorev. brills, &c 3 must be first cut from head 
to tail down the middle, and then in portions from this cut 
to the fin. which being considered the best part, is helped 
with the rest. Fried soles, on the other hand, are simj 1 
cut across, dividing the bone. The shoulder is the bes 
part, and should be first helped. Salmon, being laid oo 
the side, is cut down the middle of the upper side, and then 
across from the back te the belly. A boiled mackerel 
serves for four people. The fish-knife is passed from tail 
to head under the upper side, which is then divided into two 
Cod is always crossways. and a small piece of the sound 
sent with each helping. 

3. Joints are helped with a steel fork, of which, if 
you value your fingers, you will take care that the guard 
is raised, and a carving knife, which for the sake of your 
neighbor's teeth, if you do not care for your own, you 
will never yourself sharpen. Let us premise that the 
butcher and cook must assist the carver, and that an ill- 
cut or ill-jointed joint augments terribly the torture of 
the dispenser. It must also be premised that there are 
more ways than one of cutting the same joint, that some- 
times one, sometimes another is preferred, and that one 
way will often be the more economical, another the more 
elegant. Happy age when the butler shall have the re- 
sponsibility of pleasing both the master and mistress cf 
the house, who invariably differ when there is an alter- 
nati re ! 

The roast beef ol Old England, on which our glory k 
gaid to fatten and our pluck to thrive, appears on weU- 
kept tables in two forms only. The sirloin has an upper 
and under cut, about which tastes differ. It is therefor* 



HINTS ON CARVING. 



251 



osii&i to begin with the upper or thicker side. The joint 
ruuot lie with its chine bone towards the left, and its flap 
tc the right of the carver. It must be held steady b^ 
in&srting the fork near the flat-bone. (It may here be re 
isarkcd, that in all carving the fork should never be left 
Sticking in the meat, but withdrawn with the knife ; nor 
should it evei be stuck in perpendicularly and grasped 
with the whole hand.) One long deep cut must then be 
made across the joint close to the chine-bone. The out- 
side is next sliced off from the chine-bone to the flap, and 
you then proceed to cut the meat in very thin slices in 
the same direction. A slice of the fat on the flap must 
be given with each helping. If the under cut is asked 
for, you must carefully turn the joint so as not to splasll 
the gravy — another of the fearful responsibilities of carv- 
ing — and then cut the meat across in thick slices. A 
round of beef is easily carved till you come to the skew- 
ers, and then agony commences ; and what with the im- 
possibility of drawing them out with the hand, the diffi- 
culty of doing so with the fork, and the quivering looseness 
of the joint when the arrow is at last extracted from its 
wretched flesh, a round with a round of beef is a more 
trying combat, than successive rounds with the cook who 
skewered, the butler who served, and the host who com- 
pelled you to carve it. However let us hope for the best ; 
there is good in all, even skewers ; and let us, inserting 
3ur fork firmly into the enemy's side, cut his brown top 
iff with a horizontal slice of our long sharp steel the 
longer and sharper the better for this joint, and proceed 
to torture him by making a succession of very thin slices, 
af which one is enough for any guest, except an alderman 
Boiled betf is nnre favored at dining-houses in th« 



252 



ACCOMPLISHMEN 



City than at company dinners at the West Enl. The 
side is cut in very thin slices, which should be as broad 
and as long as the joint itself, if you can cut them so. 

Mutton appears generally in three forms. The saddle 
is the best joint, and is best cut in very thin slices close 
tc the back-bone ; or you may slice it horizontally from 
the tail to the other end ; or again slanting from the back- 
bone towards the fat, so that each slice shall carry its 
own end of flit. A shoulder of mutton must lie with the 
knuckle towards your right, and the blade-bone towards 
your left. In the middle of the edge of the part farthest 
from you place the fork, and there give one sharp dexte- 
rous cut from the edge to the bone. The meat then flies 
open, and you proceed to cut rather thick slices on each 
side of the opening till you can cut no more. You may 
then cut three or four slices from the centre-bone to the 
end, and if there are more mouths to be filled, of which 
your own, of course, will be one, you must turn the joint 
over and slice the under side. The same shoulder of 
mutton is a disgrace to a sheep, for do what you will, you 
can never get enough off it. Much more satisfactory is 
the animal's leg. In the bosom of your own family, wh;n 
funds are low and butcher's bills high, the best plan is to 
be<rin at the knuckle, cutting across in thick slices. a;)d 
go on to the top. But if your wife puts up with a knuckle 
slice, your guests will not, and in company you must 
therefore begin in the middle The knuckle should point 
k)vards your left. You then cut from the side farther 
from you towards yourself, thus opening the joint in the 
middle, and proceed to take thin slices on the right, which 
some people prefer, and thick slices towards the knuckle 
The little tuft of fat near the thick end is a delicacy, an J 
must be distributed as such. 



HINTS ON CARVING. 



258 



The lamb, disturbed in its gambols, furnishes our ruth- 
less appetites with two quarters (a fore and a hind), a 
saddle, which is carved like a saddle of its elder relative, 
mutton, and a loin which must be divided into chops. 
The fore quarter consists of a shoulder, a breast, and tl € 
fibs., which are served without separation, and the carver 
has therefore the pleasure of turning butcher for the time. 
This he does by placing the knife under the shoulder, 
drawing it horizontally, and so removing the shoulder al- 
together. This limb is generally placed on a separate 
dish, and carved like a shoulder of mutton. You have 
then to cut off the breast, and finally separate the ribs. 
The hind quarter consists of a leg and a loin, the former 
being cut across, the latter lengthways. 

Veal gives us a head, breast, and fillet. If the first of 
these appears in its normal form, not having been boned 
and rolled, you must cut it down the centre in rather 
thin slices on each side. The meat round the eye, a deli- 
cacy, may be scooped out. A small piece of the palate 
and the accompanying sweetbread must be sent on each 
plate. A fillet of veal is simply cut in slices, which musf 
not be too thin ; and the stuffing in the centre should be 
helped with a spoon. In a breast of veal the ribs should 
bo first separated from the brisket, after which either or 
both may be sent round. 

Roast pork is not often seen on good tables. When it 
appears it is as easy to carve as a leg of mutton, but the 
slices should be thicker and not so large. Two very small 
slices ar3 enough for an epicure ; let those who like it eat 
more. The best part of roast pork is the crackling, if it 
has been roasted with buttered paper over it. Boiled 
pork like boiled mutton, is only to be tolerated for the 



254 



ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 



Bake of its proper accompaniments, but the taste for pease- 
pudding, unlike that for caper sauce, can only be acquired 
by a long residence in this country. Eoth these joints 
are carved like a roasted leg of mutton. The waiter al 
a hotel, who, when a Hebrew gentleman ordered u pork- 
chops,' 5 considerately and delicately returned with poach- 
ed eggs, was a man of taste as well as of breeding, ami 
knew that it takes much to make pork palatable. Not so, 
however, with ham and baco?i, which are meats to warm 
the cockles of the heart, even of a Pharisee of the Phari- 
sees, and while to enjoy the former one would always be 
rich, one could be content to be poor for the sake of the 
latter. Alas ! because bacon is a poor man's luxury, the 
rich, or their vulgar cooks, will never admit it, or very 
rarely. It must be cut as thin as a lady's vail, and in 
delicate long strips rather than slices. A ham may be 
cut in thred ways, by beginning either at the knuckle, 
which must be turned towards your left, and slicing in a 
slanting direction ; or at the thick end, which is then 
turned to your left ; or, in the commonest manner, like a 
leg of mutton, across the centre. In any case it must be 
cut in very thin, delicate slices, such as the waiters of 
now defunct Vauxhall won their fame for, and such as, to 
this day, few people but the owner of a London cook- 
shop can achieve. One small slice is enough as an ac- 
companiment to a helping of fowl or veal. 

Last of the joints comes their best, the haunch of Veni- 
son. To carve this the knuckle should be turned towards 
your right hand, and above it a rapid cross cut made. A 
cut lengthways from the other end to the cross cut, should 
divide the meat about the middle, and slices of moderate 
thickness aie then to be taken or. each side of the long 



HINTS ON CAKVINO. 



255 



cut ; those on the left are the best, having the most fat 
about them. 

You are now wishing that edible animals grew like pit 
lows 3 to be sliced up like roly-poly puddings, and woukl 
dispense for ever with the inconvenience of limbs, legs, 
t boulders, saddles, haunches, loins, sirloins, breasts, ribs, 
fore-quarters and hind-quarters. But you cannot have 
everything. If meat grew on trees it would not be worth 
eating ; it is the exercise of the animal which makes it 
tender and savory ; while, on the other hand, the besi 
meat is generally t v '„ nearest to the bone. The only 
riddle which Sir Edward Lytton was ever guilty of per- 
petrating was this: " Why is a cat's taste better than a 
dog's ? Because the dog's is bon (bone), but the cat's is 
rnieux (mew)." With all deference to Sir Edward, I 
must give my opinion that the dog has the best taste of 
all animals, which he displays in his preference for bones, 
well knowing that the meat nearest to them is always the 
most savory. 

However this may be, you have not done yet ; indeed, 
you have the worst to come, and there is fresh torture 
for the carver in — 

4. Animals served whole. You may perhaps mastei 
a Rabbit, because he may be treated like Damien, whc 
was broken on the wheel, by removing the legs and shoul- 
ders with a sharp-pointed knife, and then breaking his 
back in three or four pieces by pressing the knife across 
it and pushing the body up against it with the fork bui 
when you come to that long, thin, dark, and scraggy ani- 
mal, which with its crisp delicate ears sticking up, and 
the large sockets where its eyes once were, looks like 
roasted bottle-imp, rather than roasted Hare, what are 



266 



ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 



you to do. unless the cook has been skiltul enough U 
bone it foi you ? You must first cake care that yo m 
knife has a sharp strong point to it, and therewith, hav- 
ing the head oS the hare towards your left, you will cut 
sff the leas, — to wit, the hind less, for carving and nat- 
ural history differ in this matter, the latter asserting thai 
(he hare is a quadruped, the former that it has only two. 
legs, and two " wings.'* 3 You will then cut two long 
thin slices off each side of the back ; then take off the 
"wings'" or shoulders: then break the back into four 
pieces with the aid of the fork ; then cut off the ears, and 
lastly, turning the head towards you with the under side 
uppermost, insert the point of the knife exactly in the 
centre of the palate, and drawing it to the nose, thus di- 
vide it into two parts. % If you do all this without splash- 
ing the gravy, you may take your degree in carving. But ♦ 
to help a hare is more diplomatic still than to carve it. 
The difficulty is to find enough for everybody who wants 
it. The best parts are the slices from the back, the head 
and ears. Never, however, send head or ears to a l^ady. 
There is a good reason for this, which 1 won't tell you. 
But if there is a minister in office at table, and you 
want to ask him for a place, or there is a father whose 
daughter's hand you aspire to, or an uncle who may pos- 
sibly leave you a legacy, it is for him that you reserve 
half the face, and one if not both ears. If he be at all a 
no rnet. you will get his ear by sending him puss's, and < 
tho delicate brain of the animal will fully compensate for 
s want of it in your own head. 

AfoicL if not in it3 premVre jeuuesse. is more irri- 
tating still than a hare, because you feel that when yon 
have done your best, the flesh is not worth eating, except 



HINTS ON CARVING. 



257 



at supper There are two ways of beginning Either 
take the leg, wing, and part of breast off with one cut, 
after having laid the bird on its side ; or, allowing it to 
remain on its back, with the breast and wings towards 
■you, and the legs away from you. insert the knife in the 
side of the breast above the leg, and bring it down to the 
joint of the wing, which is thus removed with a slice ot 
the breast. The liver wing, which lies to your right, is 
the best, and should be taken off first. This clone, insert 
the knife just at the turn of the breast, bring it down, 
and you have the merry-thought. The meat of the breast 
is then easily sliced off, the legs having been turned 
back with the fork. The side-bones come off next, in a 
moment, if you insert the knife or fork in the right place, 
viz., under the angular joint, and turn them out. The 
back is then broken by lifting it with the fork against the 
pressure of the knife, and lastly, the sides are removed. 
The wing, breast, and merry-thought are the best pieces ; 
the legs and sides are insulting. The great point in 
carving a fowl is to do it quickly, and with the fork as 
much, if not more than, the knife. 

A partridge is carved like a fowl, but the legs being 
joined, are simply turned back with the knife before the 
operation commences. A pheasant is carved like a fowl. 
Pigeons are not carved at all, but cut in two down the 
middle; the eater kindly saving the carver any furthoi 
trouble. Snipe is treated in the same waj and smallei 
birds are always sent round one to each person. 

Of a goose or a turkey we are told it is " vulgar " to 
cut more than the breast, but there can be no vulgarity 
in making a good dinner, and in the family circle you 
*?tll be obliged jo spply to the wings and legs. However 



258 



ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 



for company, slices of the breast suffice/ The same 
thing is said of the wild-duck, that best of birds; but we 
did not think so at Oxford, where we never left anything 
more than their carcasses. The most productive bird ia 
the Scotch and Swedish capercailzie. I have known one 
satisfy fourteen large appetites one day, three he ivy 
eaters the second, and what with hashing, grilling, devil- 
ling, and picking, last the original purchaser a whole 
week for breakfast afterwards. It might perhaps be 
"vulgar" to carve such a bird as that; little leas bp 
than offering a lady a leg of ostrich. 



CHAPTER VI 



FEMININE ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 

A K English lady without her piano, or her pencil, or hes 
&ncy work , or her favorite French authors and German 
poets, is an object of wonder, and perhaps of pity. Mu- 
sic, the cultivation of which was, at one time, severely 
censured as being carried to excess, has now become a 
national want. Painting, and even modellings are not 
only pursued in the quiet of home, they furnish subjects 
for an amateur exhibition. No woman can be wholly 
fitted as a member of society, unless she can dance well ; 
and to work neatly and skilfully at fancy work, is one of 
the attributes of good female society. 

We are not, wo English, a nation of talkers ; natu- 
rally, our talent is for silence. The few who distinguished 
themselves in conversational powers have died out among 
us, and their places will never, we have every reason to 
believe, be filled up. 

" The seat is vacant — whereon Conversation 
Sharpe gave forth such studied bon mots," 

or culled from the treasures of his vast memory the tit 
bits of old authors. Lady Morgan who, as she " circu* 
lated" through a party, to use her own expression, de- 
lighted both wise and simple, by her ever ready flow of 

(259} 



2U0 



FEMININE ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 



woris, and richness of anecdote and repartee, w gone 
and her throne is vacant. 

The salon, which she collected around her, wac, in it? 
capacity of passing hours in talking, more French than 
English; she its centre. We shall never see the like 
again ; the world is too large, and we are too rich. Elo- 
quence, even, went out with metal buttons and white 
waistcoats : the House of Commons is only bored by it 
now ; the Lords are proud and thankful to say they never 
encouraged it. Eloquence, which is to conversation what 
the garden flower is to the wild flower, the hot-house 
grape to the poor sour thing that grows on the cottage 
walls — eloquence, which is but condensed conversation, 
with all the essence of many minds in one, is regarded 
in these practical days only as an interruption. 

It therefore becomes more and more essential that there 
should be some talent to supply the want of good conver 
sation. And, for that end, there is nothing like music. 

Music is, I repeat, the substitute, and the only one, for 
conversational powers. It has its merits in that light. 
Conversation sometimes aggravates temper: music soothes 
it. Conversation challenges reply : music gives no an- 
swer. Conversation is the rock of peril to the impudent : 
they can scarcely, in playing or singing, commit an indis 
cretion. In talking, again, one may lose a friend, or even 
make an enemy. Music is, therefore, an excellent source 
c t amusement for many occasions, and is become almost in- 
dispensable to those who have frequently parties to re- 
teive. A lively waltz, or a soft movement, carefully 
[.Lived, even without that great execution which compels 
listening, are often aids to conversation : it flows the mure 
*»sily from that sttght and agreeable interruption, it has 



MUSIC. 



281 



injeed, still greater advantages : this world of ours lias its 
work and its troubles ; a parent or husband may leave 
home from either or from both, to find a solace in niusic, 
which changes the current of his ideas. A brother may 
be almost made domestic by the cheerful notes, which he 
finds pass the evening almost as rapidly as the club, 01 
Jullien's, or the theatre, Few persons are wholly devoid 
of a capacity for enjoying music, and even, if not gifted 
with any great natural taste, a love of the art may almost 
be engrafted on the nature by early associations. And 
those associations, too, have their value. The air that 
brings back home-born thoughts, brings back in some de- 
gree the absent, the kind, the forbearing, the loving, ili8 
honored. 

The piano still keeps its pre-eminence as the instrument 
best fitted for society. The harp, it is to be regretted, 
has for some years ceased to be fashionable : perhaps thj 
greater attention, in modern times, to physical education 
has banished the harp from the school-room. There is 
every risk of the practising on this instrument producing 
curvature of the spine ; whereas the piano, from exercis- 
ing both hands at a time, and from the straight posture it 
requires, is useful to those disposed to such curvatures. 
Duets on the harp and piano are, nevertheless, very de- 
lightful ; and they used to produce a good effect in a large 
room, when two sisters, or a professional lady and her 
y jung pupil, a daughter of the house, opened the evening's 
Mimsement with one of those exquisite Italian airs, set by 
ftochsa or Chatterton. Simple melodies, sung to the harp 
are still very effective in society from their variety. A 
barp requires a large room ; it should be played with feel- 



262 



FEMALE ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 



mg and grace, or it becomes very unpleasant, like the 
jingling of a hired band. It requires stout nerves, cer 
tainly for the display necessary to execute an air on th : 
harp, perched on a high stool, and forming a pleasing 
object, as well as being the vehicle of sweet sounds to the 
whole company. 1 

The guitar makes a graceful variety : but is more ap- 
propriate to a man's than to a woman's playing. It ia 
monotonous, and soon fatigues the attention ; but, being 
easily portable, is often a resource in places and on occa- 
sions where a piano cannot be had. 

The same may be said of the zitter, one of the sweetest 
and most touching of string instruments ; but still, except 
for the occasional playing of Tyrolean minstrels, unknown 
in this country. It is of Bavarian origin, and is the oldest 
instrument known. Its plaintive and appealing sounds are 
heard in Alpine chalets, or by the forester's fireside, as weD 
as in the country revels of the inhabitants of Vienna, Inn- 
spruck, and Munich. It is exquisite as an accompaniment 
of the voice ; it is cheap and portable. A good zitter may 
be obtained for thirty shillings or two pounds. It is flat, 
and takes up little room, and should be placed horizon- 
tally on a table, without a cover. It requires, however, 
time and much practice to bring out those thrilling tones, 
at once so touching and so peculiar. The most eminent 
professors in Germany speak highly of the powers of this 
tm^U instrument, and say that it produces notes nearer li 
those of the human voice than any other. Yet it is not 
calculated for large concerts : we English must have noise 
and show. The zitter is an instrument for the boudoir, 
for lovers in a bower, for the poet in his turret, foi 



MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS. 



26b 



the devotee to all that is soft, romantic, and unsophisti- 
cated. 

It seems scarcely needful to point to the violin and 
Tioloncello as instruments unsuitable to young ladies; yet 
theie have been women who have successfully cultivated 
both, to the great credit of their perseverance, and the 
great detriment of their feminine attractions. The con 
certina is, however, a beautiful and not inappropriate in- 
strument, though I confess the inelegance of the attitude 
required much lessens the sentiment inspired by the beau 
tiful tones of the concertina. 

Nothing requires greater judgment, if not some expe- 
rience of society, than the selection of pieces to play ic 
company. " Oh! how my head ached last night !" cries 
an old lady; " we had a piece six pages long !" Some 
ladies sit down (as it seems) with an intention of "giving 
it rein" for their hearers. Through passage after pas- 
sage, volleys of black notes are made to speak, and, as 
page after page is turned over by a zealous friend, the 
young musician labors at it, and does herself justice, and 
her hearers a wrong : for a long piece is as bad as a long 
story, and neither are fitted for society. A short, perhaps 
brilliant, thoroughly well-learned air or movement by 
some good master, is the best response to the often put 
question, " Will you play something?" The loud, thump- 
ing style should be avoided : if possible, the piece should 
not be quite common and hackneyed ; not what " every 
one" plays. It should not be too mournful, nor too rapid. 
On sitting down to the piano, it is very offensive to hear 
a young lady find fault with the instrument, or complain 
that it is out of tune — a proof either that her temper if 



264 



FEMININE ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 



out of tune, or that she wishes to impress on you the aiv 
pericvity of her ear, which detects the defect to yours, 
which has stupidly overlooked it. All self-assertion, be it 
about music, or singing, or dancing, or anything, is un- 
pleasant, and always seen through. There is a certain 
art too. in sitting; at the piano : all movements of the body 
should be avoided : well-bred people play without theui> 
and they are unpleasant to those sitting behind. Be ready 
also to quit the instrument after finishing : in some cases, 
when once seated, ladies seem to be glued to the piano, 
and however fascinating may be their efforts, it is bad 
policy to wear your audience cut. Then another hint to 
the amateur musician : be lenient, at all events, and en 
couraging, if you can, to others. There is no need to 
flatter ; but great reason, especially to those wdio play well, 
to be amiable on this, as on other points. A little kindli- 
ness, a polite attention to the feelings of others, wins manj 
a friend ; for we are governed by the trifles of life. 

Almost every well-educated lady can play a little ; but 
that is not the case in respect to vocal music. Whether 
it be owing to English climate or English constitution, 
there is no saying : but there is nothing more rare than a 
good voice. It may, however, provided the ear be good, 
be almost acquired ; but then the best instruction must b3 
obtained ; a dozen good lessons, taken not too soon, but 
whenever the voice Js formed, and the young lady plays 
well are far more beneficial than a long course of inferior 
teaching. It is important that a young lady should not 
begin to sing in society too soon ; it is objectionable to 
hear a learner, whose performance speaks of the school- 
room; it is far worse, however, to be condemned to listen 
to a voice that is passed, of which the best notes arc 



SINGING. 



26o 



cracked or feeWe , and there is soinetning absurd in hearing 
a stout matron — 

" A mother with her daughters or her nieces, 

Looking like a guinea, with her seven shilling pieces.''" 

fiS Byron impertinently has it — singing with bygone em 
phasis about love ; or a thin spinster, of forty or moie, 
holding forth in such songs as " I'll watch for thee," or, 
il Don't forget me." Instrumental music is appropriate 
to any age, but after forty the voice loses the delicious 
freshness of youth, the style is no longer that of the day, 
and even the finest amateur vocal performers have lost 
nomethin^, we scarcely know what, but something we miss 
painfully. 

When asked to sing, if you do not intend to do so, re- 
fuse so decidedly that you cannot be compelled ; but the 
more decided the refusal, the gentler should the manner 
be. There is a style of saying " No," that never offends. 
You are asked as a compliment ; as a compliment receive 
the entreaty. If you intend to sing, accept at once ; do 
not hurry up to the piano, as if glad of an opportunity 
of showing off, but go gently; if by request you have 
brought your music, and it should never be brought to 
those who know that you sing without request, leave it 
down stairs ; it can be sent for ; but, since all pauses in 
society are to be avoided, if you can sing without notes it 
m as well ; at the same time, never attempt to do so unless 
lure of yourself. A half-forgotten or imperfect song is 
irritating. Something lirfit and brilliant is best for a 
commencement, or a little air not too well known — Ger- 
man, perhaps. For the sake of all the Muses, do not 
attempt a long Italian bravura of Verdi or Donizetti, that 
12 



266 



FEMININE ACCOMPLIbilMENTS. 



perhaps, _alf ihe company have heard Garcia or Piccolo- 
mini sing the week before, you must murder it to ears so 
artistic as theirs. Or if you are singing to a homely au- 
dience, the simplest song will please them better. The 
liffeience between a professional and an amateur singer 
ihculd always be kept in view. The one is constrained 
by interest to astonish ; the other has no other inducement 
than to charm. The one is purchased, the other is a vol- 
untary effort to pass away time, and to do justice to the 
composition of some of the popular masters of the day. 

The form and movements of the body must be habitually 
controlled in singing. In nine cases out of ten they spoil 
the effect of the voice. Some ladies bend from side to 
Bide, cast up their eyes, or fix them, with a rapt expression, 
on the wax lights above them. Others make alarming 
faces, protrude the under jaw, or what is worse assume an 
affected smile. A good master suffers none of these de- 
fects to creep in. He regulates the mouth, which shoulc 
be as little drawn as possible ; open it must be, but should 
appear to have an inclination to smile, without the abso- 
lute smile. A great deal depends on the right mode of 
bringing out the voice. I confess it is a great sacrifice to 
Bee one's friends look frightful, even when giving out the 
i est delicious sounds ; nor is it essential. In the choice 
of Bongs, variety is to be adopted. German music pleases, 
generally; but, let no one not conversant with the right 
pronunciation of any foreign language, smg in it ; there 
is nothing so unpleasant as to hear broad French., mincing 
German, or lisping Italian. Even in English, a good ac- 
cent is the most essential thing possible ; and, also, a 
tood articulation. A simple song, sung without grea 
powers of voic^, but well articulated, delights, becauBe it 



SINGING. 



2:7 



touches the understanding to which it appeals, and grati- 
fies the ear which approves the modest and careful effort 
of art. Witness the extreme pleasure, amounting to en- 
thusiasm, afforded by the singing of the poet Moore. He 
no compass of voioe ; what he had was musical, but 
eminently so ; but his singing captivated from the 
clearness with w T hich every word was uttered ; the way in 
which every w r ord told ; the easy, natural manner of the 
poet at the piano. On one occasion, Mrs. Billington being 
in one room, and Moore in another, of some great Lon- 
don house, crowds flocked around the poet, whose touching 
tones even drew them from the florid singing of the night- 
ingale of her day. The same effect was produced by the 
singing of the late Mrs. Lockhart, the daughter of Sir 
Walter Scott, to the harp. She generally sang her fath • 
er's poetry, set to music. Her taste, her feeling, and 
truth of expression, riveted the attention, though hei- 
voice had little power. The French excel in this specie3 
of intellectual singing, if one may use such a word, but 
theirs is chiefly professional. Who can ever forget Ma- 
dame Jenny Denner's " Ma Tante," or Levassor's " Vie 
de campagne" ? Yet neither had the average amount of 
vocal powers of a village chorister. 

After finishing one song, a lady should rise from the 
piano, even if she be brought back again and again. Some 
ladies are so aware what great injustice they do them- 
selves by being induced to sing too much, that they make a 
rule of only singing two songs at a party ; but all set rules 
in society are bad. Nothing, however, can be worse than 
to go on from song to song, till admiration, and even pa- 
tience are exhausted, and politeness is driven to her wit's 
end to be civil. Of course, it is almost needless to say 



268 



FEM I X I N K \ C C0MPLI3HMEN1 S. 



that sacred songs should be avoided in parties. I doubt 
whether any of the deeper feelings should be paraded or 
light occasions, and if songs truly mournful are not bet- 
tor reserved for small reunions of the real lovers of deej: 
|sathos in music. 

All accomplishments have the one great merit of giv 
tag a lady something to do ; something to preserve hex 
from ennui ; to console her in seclusion ; to arouse her 
in grief ; to compose her to occupation in joy. And none 
answers this purpose much better than fancy work, or 
even plain work. The former can often be brought ad- 
vantageously into the rear of other pursuits — as a reserve. 
The latter cannot well be carried into society, except as 
a charity. The Germans do this gracefully. At some of 
their courts the great set the example. During Lent, at 
Munich, they have working parties. The queen made a 
baby's shirt, one evening, when one of these reunions was 
held in the apartments of her grande ma tresse. The 
king, meantime, was pulling lint for the hospitals. Every 
lady of the court had some useful article before her : 
warm shawls made with the crotchet-needle : stockings 
knitted ; dresses, chiefly for children, from their being 
small. Such are the labors that employ on certain eve- 
nings the court and nobility of a nation wdiose aristocracy 
is among the most ancient and still the ilchest in Europe 
And conversation went round cheerfully. Little tables 
were set about, and the assemblage was broken up into 
parties, each table holding a lady or two, with a gentleman 
near her. A terrible waste of time in small parties would, 
indeed, be avoided, if some sort of work could be intro- 
duced ; and, if young ladies were not condemned to be 
idle for several hour?, they would look better, and be 



happier more amiable, and less fatigued than they often 
are at what is facetiously termed a " friendly party,' 
Not that it is recommended to take into a party youi 
husband's stockings to mend, or dear Charles's shirts, over 
which he was naturally so irritable at the absence of but- 
tons, or Louisa's pinafores to run strings into ; let the 
work have the characteristics of recreation combined with 
utility, and the most scrupulous cannot be oifended. Such 
is indeed the spirit of the day : for we are a more sensi- 
ble people than our grand si res were* 

Sketching and archery stand first among out-door 
amusements. They are healthy, elegant, and appropri- 
ate to the feminine character ; while — first thought of 
mammas ! — they assemble rather than exclude the young* 
er members of the other sex. 



CHAPTER VH 



MANNER, CARRIAGE, AXD HABITS. 

Trie politeness comes from the heart, and this being 
good, the rest will soon follow. But, as Chesterfield says, 
1 good sense and good nature suggest civility in general ; 
but in good breeding there are a thousand little delica- 
cies, which are established only by custom/'' That which 
militates most against good breeding is an indifference to 
or want of consideration for the feelings of others : and 
what does this amount to but a bad heart ? A courtier 
may hate me with civility, and a brigand rob me politely. 
Is there not some good in the heart of both these men ? 
Have they not a great consideration for my feelings ? 
They cannot, they would tell me, help what they do ; I 
stand in this one's way, and he must and does hate 
me; I have a purse and the other is a robber, he 
must and will take it ; but both of them, compelled to 
treat me so ill, do it with a grace that removes half the 
annoyance of it. The courtier conceals his hatred, and 
what therefore do I care for it? I do not even £now of 
its existence, and a passion which we never discover can- 
not affect us. Then, too, if the highwayman politely and 
delicately c< invites'' me to give up those few paltry 
bank-notes, assuring me it is his ''profession," that he 
laments the necessity and that if I show no fight, no vio 
(270) 



MANNER AND THE HEART. 



21 \ 



lence will be used, I have at least the comfort of being 
saved from a fright, of being allowed free speech, of be- 
ing given the option to fight or yield, so that when I 
come 1: think how much an agreeable manner may do to 
console and conciliate, I don't know whether I could ac» 
cm 33 my worst enemy of a w T ant cf heart, if he behaved 
like a gentleman to me. However, I am convinced that 
it a man had not a good only, but a perfect heart, if all 
hi& attention were directed to the comfort of others, and 
he was willing perpetually to make the sacrifice necessary 
to insure it, he would need little or no instruction in man- 
ners more than a little experience. He would soon dis- 
cover how this act or that gave offence or caused embar- 
rassment to his neighbor; and while he saw nothing 
wrong in it himself, would, for his neighbor's sake, avoid 
it for the future. He himself might see no harm in 
using a tooth-pick at dinner, but he would soon see the 
obnoxiousness of it reflected in opposite faces, and down 
would go the tooth-pick. Give such a man, ill-bred, even 
unbred naturally, the time and the opportunity, and he 
would turn out a gentleman. But first, where do you 
find this perfect consideration for others, this brotherly 
love, for it is nothing else, which descends to the minutest 
details, and feels within itself the vibration of every 
shord too rudely struck in other hearts ? Alas, where ? 
Or, given the heart, how are you to insure the experi- 
ence ? Meanwhile, in waiting for hearts and experiences, 
society grows depraved. It is for this reason that we set 
up laws of etiquette, as it is called — but laws of Chris 
tian action w r e might call them — to insist upon the show 
of that which ought to come spontaneously from the 
heart. In doing so, we merely copy lawgivers of anothel 



MANNER, CARRIAGE, AXD HABITS. 



kind. Honesty is not honesty, for instance, if it come 
not from within. The roost respectable man might be 
dishonest if he had the chance, and no fear of the law. 
Nevertheless the law undertakes to make men appear 
honest, because it knows that it is in vain to wait for 
honesty in heart. The law tells the young thief he must 
rob no more, and it may cure him of thieving and make 
him turn out a respectable man — in appearance but it 
cannot be sure, because he does not thieve, that he has no 
internal desire to do so. and would not do so if the fear 
of the law were gone. So too. in just the same way. the 
Saws of society give rules by which a man may be amia- 
ble and well-bred — to all appearance : but it cannot a 
whit the more insure the good feeling which ought to sug- 
gest the good acts. 

I say, then, that because Etiquette lays down rules by 
which you are to appear to have a heart, she does noth- 
ing worse than the laws of the realm, which show how 
you may appear honest, and leave your heart alone. 
This preface is necessary, because when I say a man is to 
Fmile at such a time, and show dignity at such another, 
f he world might tell me I was teaching hypocrisy. I am 
doing nothing of the kind. I am merely providing for 
acts which are necessary to the wellbeing of society, be- 
cause I know that if every one acted according to his 
heart, the world would soon be turned upside-down. 

So then I can manfully say that a good manner is a 
good gift. TTe know ail about oily serpents, we have 
read enough of them in romantic novels, but I am bound 
to say I prefer an oily serpent, by way of society, to an 
unlicked bear. The serpent may not choose me to bite, 
I may enjoy his society, I may never discover that he ig 



4 



MANNER AND THE HEART. 273 

anything worse than a harmless blind-worm with no sting 
in him ; but I cannot have been a minute with the bear> 
before I am torn to pieces. When I hear of the serpent's 
biting anybody, I can avoid him for the future, but in 
the meantime he is an agreeable companion, and I have nc 
right to judge my neighbor. I say then that a man 
should curb his heart first, but if he cannot do or has not 
done this, he has no right to come bellowing with irrita- 
tion into the society of quiet people, merely because he 
will not take the trouble to be mannerly. 

Manner, then. I am bound to confess, is the cloak of 
character, but if to bare the character be indecent, it is 
better it should wear a cloak than go about naked. Un- 
til we are all perfect, until there is a millennium on 
earth, it will always be indecent to wear our feelings in 
Adamite costume, and so long will a garment, like that 
of Manner, be necessary. 

A good carriage involves two things, a respect for one's 
gelf and a respect for others. It is very difficult to draw 
the line between the two, and to show where the one 
should yield to the other : but as the world goes, the man 
who respects himself is generally respected, and for a 
very good reason, since without a due recognition of the 
Divine spark within him, a recognition owed to his Maker, 
no man can be really good. On the other side, comes 
the Christian precept which bids us love our neighbor as 
ourself, and at once defines where self-respect must end. 
Wherever our dignity, our prejudices, our opinions begin 
to annoy our neighbors, to cause them pain, embarrass- 
ment, or confusion, they must give way. How often do 

we hear, u I think Mr. is a very excellent man, but 

he ha^i a most disagreeable manner;" the fact being that 
12* 



274 



MANNER, CARRIAGE. AXD HABITS. 



Mr j meaning very well, has not sufficient oonsi Jur- 
ation for others 7 feelings to temper his enthusiasm. And 
then such a man wins his reward. His zeal devour? 
him. and he annihilates by want of consideration al! the 
good he might have done. We see this very often in ex- 
cellent well-meaning maiden ladies, who undertake tlm 
supervision of their poorer neighbors. Wherever they 
3ee a fault, they attack it harshly, unflinchingly, unpity- 
ingly. The result is, that the poor they visit begin tr 
loathe them and their visits, and instead of improving, 
despise the improver. Then send to them some mild un- 
taught girl, all love, all heart, ail warmth, and bid hei 
win them back. She begins instinctively by attaching 
them to herself, she is all interest, all kindness to them, 
and when she has made their hearts her own, the least 
expression of a wish will make them give up their dearest 
vices. How well has it been put, " Smoothe the way to 
the head through the heart,"' and we may be sure that 
what is good here in morals is good in manners. Rude- 
ness will never win the day ; an amiable, kind manner 
rides over the course. 

The first rule, then, for Manner, is self-respect. "With- 
out this, a man is not only weak and bad, but unfit for 
society. The want of it shows itself in two most disagree- 
able forms, adulation and awkwardness. I believe both to 
have no evil intent in themselves. Hundreds and thou- 
sands of flatterers and hangers-on have never hoped to 
gain a single benefit from their adulation. It is simple 
weakness ; simple absence of self-respect. But the woi Id 
will not always see it in so charitable a point of view ; and 
the flatterer is denounced as interested In any case, ad- 
ulation is bad. for it is dangerous not only to the servile 



SKLF-ILESi-ECT AND SELF-ESTEEM. 



275 



but to those to whom it is addressed. Awkwardness maj 
often arise from shyness, but more often is the fruit of a 
W£*nt of self-respect. Both are to he sedulously avoided. 

On the other hand, self-respect is liable to err on the 
Side of dignity, and self-respect is only one step removed 
from self-esteem. The one is a vice ; the other a virtue. 
Self-respect is the acknowledgment of manhood, of the 
good soul God has given you to take care of, of the part 
He has given you to play in life. Self-esteem is an arro- 
gance of superiority in these points. In the young it 
takes the form of conceit ; in the older, of stateliness ; in 
the woman, of vanity. We pardon it most readily in 
middle-aged men, and yet I think that the oppressive, 
damping dignity of some of these is destructive of all ease 
in society. When Paterfamilias asserts his rights, stand- 
ing with his coat-tails spread before the fire, which he 
hides from everybody else, we cannot, dare not object 
openly, but we certainly feel chilled, inwardly by his sol- 
emn dignity, and outwardly by the deprivation of caloric. 
Scarcely less dulling is the arrogance of the younger 
man, who can scarcely condescend to converse with us ; 
who brings his superior information down upon our humble 
opinions, like an avalanche on an Alpine village ; who 
contradicts us flatly, and sneers us into insignificance. 
Conversation becomes impossible, and society is deadened 
under such influences. 

More innocent, but not less contemptible, is the affecta- 
tion which arises from incipient, often from full-grown 
canity. In men it is simply contemptible, because effemi- 
nate ; and the youth who purposely lisps or minces his 
words, or the silky young curate who has, by dint of prac- 
tice, forced down his natural voice into a low, but as Anna 



276 



MANNER, CARRIAGE, AND HABITS. 



Maria asserts, most thrilling, whisrer ; or the dilettante in 
music, whose hair hangs in profuse curls, and who, as he 
runs fat white, beringecl fingers over the notes, sways hie 
body to and fro, and casts his glances to either side in a 
kind of rapture : nay. even the unnaturally solemn man, 
who looks you through as if he were casting up your 
little account of sin for you, together with a thousand 
other kinds of men, are all too obviously affected to retain 
long the respect of sensible people. "We know that nature 
has its many faults to be curbed, but we know that where 
nature is not at fault, it is most truthful to let her have 
her run. By the side of the affected man. even the 
bluntest looks noble, and for the very reason that affecta- 
tion arises from a want of self-respect or excess of self- 
esteem, extremes which resemble one another. 

But I would almost dare to say that there never was a 
woman who had not more or less affectation in speaking to 
men. I am not a St. Anthony, but I believe it to be 
natural to woman to alter their manner towards the other 
e^x ; so that I involve myself in a paradox ; it is natural 
tor them to be unnatural under these circumstances. I 
am not going into the logic of it, but really this is only 
an apparent paradox, and I may say with perfect truth 
that it is natural for women to be sometimes unnatural. 
If you doubt me. watch how Clara, the simplest, sweetest, 
least sophisticated cf her sex, talks to you, a man. Then 
rut on the invisible cap and follow her to the drawing- 
room, where she and her sisters will sit alone and talk, 
] f you see no marked change of manner in Clara, I will 
admit that I am wrong. 

But then there are grades in woman's affectation, and 
while Clara seems to be " all nature," as they say in 



EXAMPLE OF BAD MAXNER. 



277 



modern novels, we can exclaim at first sight that BJinda 
"is a mass of tarlatane and affectation.' 7 My dear Be- 
linda, take in good part the warning of an old bachelor. 
Believe me that men who are worth your arrows will not 
be smitten with tinsel shafts; believe me that the better 
they are, the more they love nature in women, artlessness, 
frankness, modesty. But then there is even an affectation 
of naturalness, and you, Clarissa, who are past five-and- 
twenty — yes, I know it, for your little brother let it 
out ! — feel that you never can be really natural again in 
society, and so you affect to be so, by becoming brusque 
and somewhat pert. Men, Clarissa, are not such fools as 
you imagine ; they will see through this even more easily, 
and there is no hope for you, but to be with them whal 
you are before your own looking-glass. But I am tres- 
passing on the province of my coheague, and I must re- 
turn, very loath, to the men. 

Let me give a few samples of manner to be avoided. 
First there is Tibbs, short enough and clever enough to 
be a great man, and such, I dare say, he will be one of 
these days. But Tibbs feels within him the spirit of gov- 
ernance, and has reverence for neither old nor young. He 
walks with a short, sharp step, his little nose rather elevat- 
ed, his eyes glaring to detect some weakness on which to 
pounce. You put forward an opinion, the meekest you 
can give : " It will turn out fine." " Beg your pardon," 
answered Tibbs, with that sharp snap, which makes the 
words sound like " Don't be a fool !" "it will not be a 
fine day. I have good reason to know it, there." What 
can you do with Tibbs, but collapse ? He treats his father 
And grandfather, and mother and sister, all in the same 
way ; ani they are cowed before him. Tibbs is nevej 



218 



MANNER CARRIAGE AND HABITS. 



dosvnrightly rude. You cannot catch him up and call 

him a bear ; but his manner of speaking continually con- 
veys the impression that Tibbs believes in his own acute- 
ness only, and in nobody else's. He is the kind of man 
who can open Shakspere, read a passage, and exclaim. 
11 Did you ever hear such nonsense?" giving you good 
reasons forsooth / if poets and philosophers could be mea- 
sured by the lowest standard of the dryest common sense. 
Tibbs is all common sense, but by no means a pleasant 
companion. 

Very different is old Mr. Dawdles. He seems to be in 
a state of chronic plethora. Say what you will on his 
dearest themes, he has no reply for you but a yes or no 
snivelled out. When he speaks himself, he appears to be 
grumbling at you, however kind his words. You knew he 
is good and means very well, and he would give you half 
his fortune out of sheer kindness, but with a gesture and 
tone of voice which would seem to say, u There, take it, 
and don't make a fuss." He does hate a fuss, more than 
all other abominations. 

There is Slouch, again, whom I believe to be an incar- 
nation of honor and uprightness, but who gives you the 
idea of a sneak and a villain. He never looks you full in 
the face. His shaggy brows hang over his lurking eyes, 
and his words come cautiously and suspiciously wriggling 
up to you. 

But Pompous has the best of hearts. He has been 
known to go out of his way for miles to leave a little some- 
thing with a poor widow. And how the man wrongs him- 
self ! He is very tall, and has a fine figure. He draws 
himself up to the greatest height, and looks down on you 
ea if you were a Lilliput. and all the while he loves you 



EXAMPLES OF A BAD MANNER. 



279 



IB a^amed to show it. He orders his wife and ser- 
vaL£& about with a calm imperiousness which makes them 
dre<yl him, and yet they all acknowledge they never knew 
a kinder man, though I never yet saw a smile of p^y 01 
gympaihy on his face. 

Far less admirable is that weak young Fitzwhiskers, whc 
holds his head so very high, and walks down the room with 
a curled lip, which seems to say, "What scum you all are !" 
Then there is Commodus, an agreeable man, if you can 
keep him within bounds. He sits down quietly enough 
and you are pleased, but in two minutes he is making the 
freest possible remarks, with no harm, no intentional of- 
fence in them, but yet so intolerably familiar for a man 
you have known but five minutes, that they quite upset 
you. Only the other clay I rashly introduced him to a 
young lady, and she afterwards told me how he had be- 
gun : — "Were you at the opera last night?" this was 
politely and quietly asked. " No." u How very fortu- 
nate for those who were there ! Those eyes would have 
singed a dozen hearts." 

But Vivax is one of the worst. He talks atrociously 
loud ; hails you from the other end of the table. " Will 
trouble you for that, ha, ha ! and for this, ho, ho !" and 
" Have you been dancing, Miss Smith ? ha, ha ! Then 
of course you have, Miss Jones ? he, he ! and what do 
you say to it, Mrs. Brown?" and he is round the whole* 
circle, from one to another, in two minutes, not waiting 
for answers. Then he bustles about; he must always 
have something on hand. He drags you here one minute, 
and rushes away from you the next. He talks as rapidly 
as an auctioneer, and rattles over a dozen subjects in aa 
many minutes. He is quick and clever, but when he \m 



MANNER, CARRIAGE. AXD HABITS. 



jerk el out his own thought, he clinches it with a ha. ha. 
or a he, he ! and never waits for your answer. 

Gluinine is just the reverse. You must do all the talk- 
ing for him ; he will only drawl out a " jSio-o-g,' ; cr a 
f| Ye-e-es," and wears a perpetual scowl. 

Then there is Trippet, who seizes you by the button 
Vole, anl grows hot over the merest trifle ; Courte. who 
replies with a sharp sneer ; Sterne, who has for ever a 
look of reproof, though he does not mean it : Fidgette, 
who can never be prevailed upon to be comfortable : Bluff, 
who terrifies you with his curt blunt manner : and Lack- 
adaye, who is so languid that he cannot take the trouble 
even to look at you. One genius whom I knew, never 
removed his eyes from the lamp on the table : another 
rushed up to you, seized both your hands, and gazed with 
apparent affection into your eyes ; a third spoke deep 
truths in a low solemn tone, as he gazed at a spot on the 
carpet ; a fourth moved his head to and fro. as if to avoid 
your gaze : and a fifth, the greatest of all, never spoke 
at all. 

The manner, in short, which a man must aspire to. is 
one which will give ease, and not embarrassment, to oth- 
ers. He must preserve a certain dignity, but yet be 
pliant ; he must be open, frank : look you honestly in the 
face, speak out confidently, yet calmly : modestly, yet 
firmly : not be bluff or blunt, but yet be free and simple. 
In feet, let a man be natural, let him be in society what 
he is anywhere : but if he find his natural manner too 
rough, tio loud, too curt, or too brutal, let him learn to 
tame it and calm it down. 

But manner has various functions for various circum- 
stance. Towards our elders and superiors, we mustsho^ 



THE PHYSICAL CARRIAGE. 



281 



m honest, not servile deference ; towards women, gentle- 
ness ; towards juniors tenderness ; towards inferiors, a 
simple dignity, without condescension. Aristotle, who was 
perhaps a better philosopher than gentleman, recommends 
a haughtiness to superiors, and graceful freedom to in- 
feriors. The world is old enough to judge for itself. i>ut 
when a man finds that his lively badinage suits a band of 
Jierry lissome girls, he must not be so wild as to rush at 
Papa with the same kind of banter. Paterfam. may give 
a smile to real wit and laugh at- a good story, but the 
same trifling which makes his daughters laugh so ring- 
ingly, will only appear to him a familiarity when ad 
dressed to himself. Then, again, the gravity into which 
you have fallen when discussing great measures with a 
philanthropist, will afford no satisfaction to the airy mass 
of tarlatane with whom you dance soon after. Solomon 
has said it : there is a time to weep and a time to laugh. 
In other words, be you as merry a jester as ever sat at a 
king's table, you must not obtrude your unweary mirth 
at a visit of condolence ; or be you the " most bereaved" 
of widowers, you will not bring your tears and sighs to 
damp the merriment of social gatherings. 

What applies to manner may be transferred in most 
respects to that bearing which distinguishes a man in so- 
ciety. But the times change much in this respect, and 
the old courteous dignity with which the beaux of my 
younger clays behaved, has given way to a greater ease, 
and sometimes, I fear, to too great freedom. I do not 
know whether to regret or not, the strict ccurteousness 
of those times. It often amounted to affectation ; it wag 
not natural to be ever bowing low, making set speeches, 
raising a lady's hands to one's lips, or pressing one's own 



282 



MANNER. CARRIAGE. AND HABITS. 



upon the region of the heart, but <it the same time I re- 
gret the lounging familiarity which we see too prevalent 
among young men of the present day. There is not io 
fact sufficient reverence for the fair and the old. Somo 
times this, I regret to say, must be charged to the faul\ 
of the former : and a young lady who talks slang, or i | 
always with "the men," must expect to find them somo* 
times abuse her good-nature. But abstracts are ineffec- 
tive ; let me come to some details as to the physical car- 
riage of a man. 

A certain dignity is the first requisite, but we must not 
expect too much of it in the young, and we should not 
emulate the solemnity of Charles the First, who never 
laughed. It is a mistake, too, to suppose that height ia 
necessary for dignity. Chesterfield, the most polished 
gentleman of his day, was only five feet seven in height, 
and Wellington and Bonaparte, both short men, have 
never been accused of want of dignity. But at the same 
time the assumption of it is more liable to become ridicu- 
lous in a short than in a tall man. Dignity can never go 
along with a slouching gait, and uprightness should be 
acquired in childhood by gymnastics and ample exercise. 
This uprightness, however, should not go to the extent of 
curving the back inwards. The chest should be expanded, 
but not sc much as to make " a presence." The head 
should be set well back on the shoulders, but not tossci 
up nor jerked on one side with that air of pertness you 
see in some men. People of height are often foolish 
enough to mar it by bending the head forward, whereas, 
if carried well, a tall figure is never awkward, even among 
Lilliputs. In standing, the legs ought to be straight, or 
one of them bent a little, but not set wide apart In 



CARRIAGE. 



talking, they should be moved gently but firmly from the 
hips, so that the upper part of the body may remain in 
the same position. How often from my window have I 
been able to mark a man by his walk ! One comes strid- 
ing s 4 outly like a captain on quarter-deck ; another sham 
hies his feet along the pavement; a third swings his arms 
violently ; a fourth carries them bowed out before him like 
a dancing-master of the old school ; a fifth turns out his 
huge feet at an angle of forty-five ; another jerks forward 
his pointed toes like a soldier at drill ; another sways hia 
body from side to side ; another looks almost hump-back- 
ed, as he moves heavily on ; one more saunters listlessly 
with his hands in his pockets ; this one moves his arms 
back behind him, and that one carries them stiff and 
straight as iron bars, with his fists clenched like knobs at 
the ei_d thereof. The feet must be turned outwards very 
little judeed ; the arms should be carried easily and very 
slight! / bent at the sides, and in walking should be moved 
a little, without swinging them ; and the shoulders should 
never be shrugged up. Avoid stiffness on the one hand, 
lounging on the other. Be natural and perfectly at your 
ease, whether in walking or sitting, and aspire to calm 
confidence rather than loftiness. 

There is, however, one good habit which must not be 
overlooked. You should never speak without a slight 
smile, or at least a beam of good will in your eyes, and 
that to all, whether your equals or inferiors. To the 
kttei it is especially necessary, and often wins you more 
love than the most liberal benevolence. But tnis smile 
should not settle into a simper, nor, when you are launch- 
ed in a conversation, should it interfere with the earnest* 



284 



MANNER, CARRIAGE. AND HABITS. 



ness of your manner. To a lady it should be more marked 
than to a man. 

In listening, again, you should manifest a certain inte- 
rest in what a person is saying ; and however little worthy 
of your attention, you should not show that you think it 
bo by the toss of your head or the wandering of youf t 
eyes. In speaking to any one you should look them in 
the face, for the eyes alwaj T s aid the tongue, but you 
should not carry this to the extent of wriggling yourself 
forward in order to catch their eyes, if there happen to 
be another person between you. 

It is painful to see the want of ease with which some 
men sit on the edge of a chair : but at the same time the 
manner in which others throw themselves back and stretch 
forward their legs savors too much of familiarity. You 
may cross your legs if you like, but not hug your knees 
nor your toes. Straddling a chair, and tilting it up may 
be pardonable in a bachelor's rooms, but not in a lady's 
drawing-room. Then, if you carry a walking-stick or 
umbrella in the street, you should avoid swinging them 
violently about, or tucking them under the arm. Both 
are dangerous to your neighbors, for in the one case you 
may inadvertently strike a person and get into as great 
trouble as the individual who was brought up the other 
day for assaulting a woman with a cricket-bat. which he 
affirmed he was merely swinging about carelessly ; in the 
other, the point of your stick may run into some unfortu- 
nate creature's eye. 

Foreigners talk with their arms and hands as auxilia- 
ries to the voice. The custom is considered vulgar by ns 
ealm Englishmen, and a Parisian, who laughs at our 



HABITS. 



28o 



radies' dressings will still admit that our men sire " dis- 
tingue s, metis tres distingue s" If the face follows ths 
words, and you allow, without grimacing, your eyes and 
smile to express what you are saying, you have no need 
to act :t with the hands, but, if you use them at all. it 
ghoul I be very slightly and gracefully, never bringing 
down a fist upon the table, nor slapping one hand upor 
another, nor poking your fingers at your interlocutor. 
Pointing, too, is a habit to be avoided, especially pointing 
with the thumb over the shoulder, which is an inelegant 
action. In short, while there is no occasion to be stolid 
or constrained, you should not be too lively in your ac- 
tions, and even if led away by the enthusiasm of an argu- 
ment, should never grow loud, rant, or declaim. No 
manner is more disagreeable than that of vehement affir- 
mation or laying down the law. 

With these remarks I may pass to consider certain 
habits which are more or less annoying to your neighbors. 
First, there is that odious habit of touching the nose and 
ears with the fingers, for which there is no excuse. Every 
part of the person should be properly tended in the dress- 
ing-room, never in the drawing-room, and for this reason 
picking the teeth, however fashionable it may once have 
been, scratching the head, the hands, or any part of the 
body, are to be avoided. Mr. Ourzon tells us that at 
Erzeroum it is quite the fashion to scratch the bites of a 
little insect as common there as in certain London hotels, 
fcnd it is even considered a delicate attention to catch the 
li vely creatures as they perch on the dress or shoulders 
of your partner. Fortunately we are not tempted to per- 
form such attentions in this country ; but if you have the 
misfortune to be bitten or stung by any insect, you musl 



235 



MANNER, CARRIAGE. AND HABITS. 



endure the pain without scratching the bite in company 
These same little insects being of very disagreeable origin 
fere not even spoken of with us. Biting; the nails, again 
is not only a dirty habit, but one which soon disfigures 
the fingers. So too in blowing your nose, you must noi 
fLake the noise of a trumpet, but do it gently and quiet- 
ly ; and, when you sneeze, use your handkerchief. I dc 
not go the length of saying that you must repress a 
sneeze entirely. There is a pleasant custom, still univer- 
sal in Germany and Italy, and retained among the peas- 
antry in some parts of England, of blessing a person who 
has sneezed, bated kite. Goft segue sie. and " bless you," 
being the terms used, probably in the hope that the prayer 
may keep you from cold. 

Sneezing brings me to snuffing, which is an obsolete 
custom, retained only by a few old gentlemen, and as it 
is a bad one, no young man should think of reviving it. 

But what shall I say of the fragrant weed which Raleigh 
taught our gallants to puff in capacious bowls ; which a 
royal pedant denounced in a famous "Counterblast;' 
which his flattering laureate, Ben Jonson, ridiculed to 
please his master : which our wives and sisters protest 
o;ives rise to the dirtiest and most unsociable habit a man 
can indulge in ; of which some fair favorers declare that 
they love the smell, and others that they will never marrj 
an indulger (which, by the way, they generally end in 
doing); which has won a fame over more space and among 
better men than Noah's grape has ever done ; which doc- 
tors still dispute about, and boys still get sick over ; but 
which is the solace of the weary laborer ; the support of 
the ill -fod ; the refresher of over-wrought brains ; the 
Boot her of angry fancies ; the boast of the exquisite ; tha 



THE EFFECTS OF SMOKING. 



287 



excuse of the idle; the companion of the philosopher; 
and the tenth muse of the poet. I will gc neither into 
the medical nor the moral question about the dreamy, 
calming cloud. I will content myself so far with saying 
what may be said for everything that can bless and cum 
mankind, that, in moderation, it is at least harmless ; but 
what is moderate and what is not, must be determined in 
each individual case, according to the habits and constitu- 
tion of the subject. If it cures asthma, it may destroy 
digestion ; if it soothes the nerves, it may, in excess, pro- 
duce a chronic irritability. 

But I will regard it in a social point of view : and, first, 
as a narcotic, notice its effects on the individual character. 
I believe, then, that in moderation it diminishes the vi- 
olence of the passions, and particularly that of the tem- 
per. Interested in the subject, I have taken care to 
seek instances of members of the same familv having 
the same violent tempers by inheritance, ot whom the 
one has been calmed down by smoking, and the other 
gone on in his passionate course. I believe that it in- 
duces a habit of calm reflectiveness, which causes us tG 
take less prejudiced, perhaps less zealous views of life, and 
to be therefore less irritable in our converse with our fel- 
low creatures. I am inclined to think that the clergy, the 
squirearchy, and the peasantry are the most prejudiced 
and most violent classes in this country ; there may be 
;th< r reasons for this, but it is noteworthy that these are 
the classes which smoke least. On the other hand. I con 
fess that it induces a certain lassitude, and a lounging, easy 
mode of life, which are fatal both to the precision of man- 
ners and the vivacity of conversation. The mind of a 
gmoker is contemplative rather than active ; and if the 



233 



MANNER. CARRIAGE. AND HABITS. 



Weed cures our irritability, it kills our wit. I believe that 
it is a fallacy to suppose that it encourages drinking. 
There is more drinking and leas smoking in this than m 
any other country of the civilized world. Tlerc waa 
more drinking among the gentry of last century, who 
uever smoked at all. Smoke and wine do not go well 
together. Coffee or beer are its best accompaniments, and 
the one cannot intoxicate, the other must be largely im- 
bibed to do so. I have observed among young bachelors 
that very little wine is drunk in their chambers, and that 
beer is gradually taking its place The cigar, too. is an 
excuse for rising from the dinner-table where there are no 
ladies to go to. 

In another point of view. I am inclined to think that 
smoking has conduced to make the society of men when 
alone less riotous, less quarrelsome, and even less vicious 
than it was. Where young men now blow a common 
cloud, they were formerly driven to a fearful consumption 
of wine, and this in their heads, they were ready and 
roused to any iniquity. But the pipe is the bachelor's 
wife. With it he can endure solitude longer, and is not 
forced into low society in order to shun it. With it too 
the idle can pass many an hour, which otherwise he would 
have given, not to work, but to extravagant devilries 
With it he is no longer restless and impatient for excite- 
ment of any kind. We never hear now of young blades 
issuing in bands from their wine to beat the watch 01 
disturb the slumbering citizens, as we did thirty cr forty 
jeers ago. when smoking was still a rarity: they ai€ ail 
puffing harmlessly in their chambers now. But, on the 
other hand, I foresee with dread a too tender allegiance to 
the pipe, to the destruction of good society, and the ahan- 



THE ETIQUETTE OF THE WEED. 289 

donment of the ladies. No wonder they hate it, dear 
creatures ; the pipe is the worst rival a woman can have : 
and it is one whose eyes she cannot scratch out ; who im- 
proves with age, while she herself declines; who has an 
art which no woman possesses, that of never wearying hef 
do rotee ; who is silent, yet a companion ; costs little, yet 
gi ves much pleasure ; who, lastly, never upbraids, and 
always yields the same joy. Ah ! this is a powerful rival 
to wife or maid, and no wonder that at last the woman suc- 
cumbs, consents, and rather than lose her lord or master, 
even supplies the hated herb with her own fair hands. 
And this is what women have come to do on the Conti- 
nent ; but in America they have gone further, and ad- 
mitted the rival to their very drawing-rooms, where the 
unmanly husband stretches his legs on the sofa, smokes, 
and spits on the carpet. Far be it from our English 
women to permit such habits ; and yet, as things are, a 
little concession is prudent. There was not so much 
drinking when withdrawing-rooms were the privilege of 
palaces, and matrons sat over the cups of their lords, and 
there will not be near so much smoking where ladies are 
present. I have no wish to see English girls light their 
own cigarettes or puff their own chibouks, like the houiis 
$f Seville and Bagdad ; but I do think that, as smoking 
Is now so much a habit of Englishmen, it would be wise 
if it were made possible, within certain well-guarded lim- 
itations, in the society of ladies. 

As it is, there are rules enough to limit this indulgence. 
One must never smoke, nor even ask to smoke, in the com- 
pany of the fair. If they know that in a few minutes ycu 
will be running off to your cigar, the fair will do well — sa y 
it is in a garden, or so — to allow you to bring it >ut anj 
13 



290 



MANNER. CARRIAGE. AND HABITS. 



Binoke it there. One must never smoke, again, in th 
streets : that is. in daylight. The deadly crime maj 
be committed, like burglary, after dark, but not before 
One must never smoke in a room inhabited at times bj 
the ladies : thus, a well-bred man who has a wife or sisters 
■will not offer to smoke in the dining-room after dinner, 
^One must never smoke in a public place, where ladies are 
01 might be. for instance, a flower-show or promenade. 
One may smoke in a railway-carriage in spite of by-laws, 
if one has first obtained the consent of every one present ; 
but if there be a lady there, though she give her consent, 
smoke not. In nine cases out of ten. she will give it from 
good-nature. One must never smoke in a close carriage ; 
one may ask and obtain leave to smoke when returning 
from a pic-nic or expedition in an open carriage. One 
must never smoke in a theatre, on a race-course, nor in 
ckurch. This last is not. perhaps a needless caution. In 
the Belgian churches you see a placard announcing, " Ici 
on ne m'.che pas clu tabac." One must never smoke when) 
anybody shows an objection to it. One must never smok( 
a pipe in the streets : one must never smoke at all in the 
coffee-room of a hotel. One must never smoke, without 
consent, in the presence jf a clergyman, and one must 
never offer a cigar to any ecclesiastic over the rank of 
GUI ate. 

But if you smoke, or if you are in the company of 
smokers, and are to wear your clothes in the presence ol 
lading afterwards, vou must change them to smoke in. A 
host who asks you to smoke, will generally offer you ar« 
old coat for the purpose. You must also, after smoking, 
rinse the mouth well out. and. if possible, brush the teeth. 
You should never smoke in another person's house without 



HABITS Al TABLE. 



291 



lea ye, and yea should not ask leave to do so, if there are 
ladies in the house. When you are going to smoke a cigar 
yourself, you should offer one at the same time to anybody 
present, if not a clergyman or a very old man. You 
hould always smoke a cigar given to you, whether good 
r bad, and never make any remarks on its quality. 

Smoking reminds me of spitting, but as this is at all 
times a disgusting habit, I need say nothing moie than— 
never indulge in it. Besides being coarse and atrocious 
it is very bad for the health. 

There are some other habits which are dif,agreeao!e 
to your company. One is that of sniffling or breathing 
hard through the nostrils, which is only excusable if you 
have a cold, and even then very disagreeable. Another 
is that o r shaking the table with your leg, a nervous habit, 
which you may not always be conscious of. Then again, 
however consoling to sing and hum to yourself, you must 
remember that it may annoy others, and though you may 
whistle when alone, " for want of thought/' you will 
whistle in company only for want of consideration of oth- 
ers. Ladies particularly object to whistling, which is a 
musical, but not very melodious habit. 

We now come to habits at table, which are very im- 
portant. However agreeable a man may be in society, 
if he offends or disgusts by his table traits, he will soon 
be scouted from it, and justly so. There are some broad 
ules for behavior at table. Whenever there is a servant 
to help you, never help yourself. Never put a knifo 
into your mouth, not even with cheese, which should be 
eaten with a fork. Never use a spoon for anything but 
liquids. Never touch anything edible with your fingers. 
Forks were undoubtedly a later invention than frngoia 



2S2 



MANNER, CARRIAGE. AND HABITS. 



but a3 we are not cannibals. I am inclined to think thej 
were a good one. There are some few things which you 
may take up with your fingers. Thus an epicure will eat 
even macaroni with his fingers ; and a3 sucking asparagus 
is more pleasant than chewing it. you may as an epicure, 
take it up au natural. But both these things are gener 
ally eaten with a fork:. Bread is of course eaten with the 
fingers, and it would be absurd to carve it with your 
knife and fork. It must, on the contrary, always be 
broken when not buttered, and you should never put a 
slice of dry bread to your mouth to bite a piece off. Most 
fresh fruit too is eaten with the natural prongs, but when 
you have peeled an orange or apple, you should cut it 
with the aid of the fork, unless you can succeed in break- 
ing it. Apropos of which I may hint that no epicure 
ever yet put knife to apple, and that an orange should be 
peeled with a spoon. But the art of peeling an orange 
so as to hold its own juice, and its own sugar too, is one 
that can scarcely be taught in a book. 

However, let us go to dinner, and T will soon tell you 
whether you are a well-bred man or not : and here let me 
premise that what is good manners for a small dinner is 
good manners for a large one, and vice versa. Xow, the 
first thing you do is to sit down. Stop, sir ! pray do not 
cram yourself into the table in that way : no, nor sit a 
yard from it, like that. How graceless, inconvenient, and 
in the way of easy conversation ! Why, dear me, you 
ire positively putting your elbows on the table, and no^f 
you have got your hands fumbling about with the spocri3 
ml forks, and now you are nearly knocking my new hock 
glasses over. Can't you take your hands 3 own, sir? 
Didn't you ham that in the nursery? Didn't your 



HABITS AT TABLE. 



29a 



Kiamraa say to you, " Never put your hands abtre the 
table except to carve or eat I" Oh . but come, no non« 
sense, sit up if. you please. I can't have your fine head 
of hair forming a side dish on my table ; you must not 
ury your face in the plate, you came to show it, and il 
ought to be alive. Well, but there is no occasion tu 8 
throw your head back like that, you look like an alder- 
man, sir, after dinner. Pray, don't lounge in that sleepy 
way. You are here to eat, drink, and be merry. You 
can sleep when you get home. 

Well, then, I suppose you can see your napkin. Got 
none, indeed ! Very likely, in my house. You may be 
sure that I never sit down to a meal without napkins. I 
don't want to make my tablecloths unfit for use, and I 
don't want to make my trousers unwearable. Well now, 
we are all seated, you can unfold it on your knees : no, no ; 
don't tuck it into your waistcoat like an alderman ; and 
what ! what on earth do you mean by wiping your forehead 
with it ? Do you take it for a towel ? Well, never mind, 
[ am consoled that you did not go farther, and use it as a 
pocket-handkerchief. So talk away to the lady on your 
right, and wait till soup is handed to you. By the way, 
that waiting is a most important part of table manners, 
and as much as possible you should avoid asking for any 
thing or helping yourself from the table. Your soup you 
eat with a spoon — I don't know what else you could eat 
it with — but then it must be one of good size. Yes, that 
will do, but I beg you will not make that odious noise in 
drinking your soup. It is louder than a dog lapping 
water, ani a cat would be quite genteel to it. Then you 
need not scrape up the plate in that way, nor even tilt it 
to get the last drop. I shall be happy to send you soma 



2i?4 MANNER, CARRIAGE AND HABITS. 

more ; but I must just remark, that it is not the custom 
to take two helpings of soup, and it is liable to keep other 
people waiting, which, once for all, is a selfish and intoler- 
able habit. But don't you hear the servant offering you 
sherry ? I wish you would attend, for my servants hav 
quite enough to do, and can't wait all the evening while 
you finish that very mild story to Miss Goggles. Come, 
leave that decanter alone. I had the wine put on the 
table to fill up ; the servant will hand it directly, or, aa 
we are a small party, I will tell you to help yourself, but, 
pray, do not be so officious. (There, I have sent him some 
turbot to keep him quiet. I declare he cannot make up 
his mind.) You are keeping my servant again, sir. Will 
you, or will you not, do turbot ? Don't examine it in thai 
way : it is quite fresh, I assure you, take or decline it 
Ah, you take it, but that is no reason why you should 
take up a knife too. Fish, I repeat, must never be touched 
with a knife. Take a fork in the right, and a small piece 
of bread in the left hand. Good, but — ? Oh! that is 
atrocious : of course you must not swallow the bones, but 
you should rather do so than spit them out in that way. 
Put up your napkin like this, and land the said bone on 
your plate. Don't rub your bread in the sauce, my good 
man, nor go progging about after the shrimps or oysters 
therein. Oh ! how horrid ; I declare your mouth was 
wide open and full of fish. Small pieces, I beseech you 
and once for all, whatever you eat, keep your mouth shut 
mi never attempt to talk with it full. 

So now you have got a pate. Surely you are not taking 
two on your plate. There is plenty of dinner to come, 
and one is quite enough. Oh ! dear me, you are incor- 
rigible. What 1 a knife to cut that light, brittle pastry 1 



hab;ts at table. 



29E 



No, nor fingers, never. Nor a spoon — almost a3 bad 
Take your fork, sir, your fork ; and now you have eaten, 
oblige me by wiping your mouth and moustache with youi 
napkin, for there is a bit of the pastry hanging to the lat- 
ter, and looking very disagreeable. Well, you can refuse 
a dish if you like. There is no positive necessity for you 
to take venison if you don't want it. But, at any rate, dc 
not be in that terrific hurry. You are not going off by 
the next train. Wait for the sauce and wait for vegeta- 
bles ; but whether you eat them or not, do not begin befon 
everybody else. Surely you must take my table for that 
of a railway refreshment-room, for you have finished be- 
fore the person I helped first. Fast eating is bad for the 
digestion, my good sir, and not very good manners either. 
What ! are you trying to eat meat with a fork alone ? Oh * 
it is sweetbread, I beg your pardon, you are quite right. 
Let me give you a rule, — Everything that can be cut with- 
out a knife, should be cut with a fork alone. Eat your veg- 
etables therefore with a fork. No, there is no necessity to 
take a spoon for peas ; a fork in the right hand will do. 
What ! did I really see you put your knife into your 
mouth ? Then I must give you up. Once for all, and 
ever, the knife is to cut, not to help with. Pray, do not 
munch in that noisy manner ; chew your food well, but 
softly. Eat slowly. Have you not heard that Napoleon 
lost the battle of Leipsic by eating too fast ? It is a fact 
though. His haste caused indigestion, which made him 
'ncapable of attending to the details of the battle. Yuu 
ee you are the last person eating at table. Sir, I will 
not allow you to speak to my servants in that way. If 
they are so remiss as to oblige you to ask for anything, do 
it gently, and in a low tone, and thank a servant just as 



£9& MANNER, CARRIAGE AND HABITS. 

much as you would his master. Ten to one he is as good 
a man : and because he is your inferior in position, is the 
very reason you should treat him courteously. Oh ! it is 
of no use tc ask me to take wine : far from pacifying me 5 
it will only make me more angry, for I tell you the custom 
is quite gone out, except in a few country villages, and at, 
a mess-table. Nor need you ask the lady to do so. How- 
erer ; there is this consolation, if you should ask anyone 
to take wine with you, he or she cannot refuse, so you 
have your own way. Perhaps next you will be asking me 
to hob and nob, or trinquer in the French fashion with 
arms encircled. Ah ! you don't know, perhaps, that when 
a lady trinques in that way with you, you have a right to 
finish off with a kiss. Very likely indeed, in England i 
But it is the custom in familiar circles in France, but then 
we are not Frenchmen. Will you attend to your lady, 
sir ? You did not come merely to eat, but to make your- 
self agreeable. Don't sit as glum as the Memnon at 
Thebes : talk and be pleasant. Now, you have some 
pudding. No knife — no, no. A spoon if you like, but 
better still, a fork. Yes, ice requires a spoon ; there is a 
small one handed you, take that. 

Say "no." That is the fourth time wine has been 
handed to you, and I am sure you have had enough. 
Decline this time if you please. Decline that dish too 
Are you going to eat of everything that is handed ? 1 
pity you if you do. No, you must not ask for more cbeese i 
and you must eat it with your fork. Break the rusk with 
your fingers. Good. You are drinking a glass of old 
port. Do not quaff it down at a gulp in that way. Never 
drink a whole glassful of anything at once. 

Well, here is the wine and dessert. Take whichever 



HABITS AT TABLE 



297 



wine you like, but remember you must keep to that, and 
not change about. Before you go up stairs I will alloTi 
you a glass of sherry after your claret, but otherwise drink 
sf one wine only. You don't mean to say you are help- 
iLg yourself to wine before the ladies. At least offer it 
to the one next to you, and then pass it on, gently, not 
with a push like that. Do not drink so fast ; you will 
hurry me in passing the decanters, if I see that your glass 
is empty. You need not eat dessert till the ladies are 
gone, but offer them whatever is nearest to you. And 
now they are gone, draw your chair near mine, and I will 
try and talk more pleasantly to you. You will come out 
admirably at your next dinner with all my teaching. 
What ! you are excited, you are talking loud to the col- 
onel. Nonsense. Come and talk easily to me or to your 
nearest neighbor. There, don't drink any more wine, for 
I see you are getting romantic. You oblige me to make 
a- move. You have had enough of those walnuts ; you 
are keeping me, my dear sir. So now to coffee (one cup) 
and tea, which I beg you will not pour into your saucer 
to cool. Well, the dinner has done you good, and me too 
Let us be amiable to the ladies, but not too much so. 



CHAPTER Vm. 



THE CARRIAGE OE LADIES. 

* T< be civil with ease/ 7 it has been well remarked, con* 
Btitr?*es good breeding. The English, it is added, have 
not les manures prevejianles ; " when they want to bo 
civil, they are ashamed to get it out." Since the man- 
ners are generally formed for good or for bad before 
thirty — although they may improve or deteriorate after 
that age — it is to the young that a few admonitions should 
be offered. 

" To the young?' 7 The young are perfect now-a-days ! 
Ours is the age of self-assertion. s< I shall be surprised 
at any one who can point out a single defect in my daugh- 
ters," says a well-satisfied mamma. " Teach us /" re- 
spond the young ladies in a chorus, u what does the crea 
ture mean?" " My dears," murmurs a tremulous voice 
from the other end of the room, grandmamma's corner, 
u don't say that ; in my younger days it was the fashion 
for young ladies, if they were not really humble and 
timid, to appear so. I never came into a room as you, 
Arabella, do, as if I could walk over every one, and didn't 
tsir.d ; nor crept in, Helen, like you, as if you had beec 
loing something in the passage you were ashamed of: 

lor plumped down into a chair like you, Sophia, nor 

Here they all interrupt poor grandmamma with a loud, 
limultaneous laugh, tor she is certainly quite out of date 
uid knows nothing of the matter. 

(298) 



ON FIRST INTRODUCTION. 



299 



She might have laid down immutable rules for good 
breeding ; she might have said, with the great Lord Chat- 
ham, who probably was the best-bred man of his time, 
that " politeness is benevolence in trifles;''* with RocLe- 
foucault that it is the mind that forms the manners ; r 
but wLc would have listened to her ? Arabella would 
have called out, " Who cares for such old fogrums now V 
and Helen have added, that she thought Lord Chester- 
field and " all that humbug about manners quite a sell."" 

Yes, it is true ; nous avons change tout cela. Except 
in the very highest classes, where politeness and a good 
carriage are taught from infancy — the higher classes being 
more retentive of old forms than any others ; except there, 
where what is called the " old school" has not died out, it 
is now not only allowable, but even thought clever, to be 
loud, positive, and rapid ; to come into the room like a 
whirlwind, carrying all before you ; to look upon every 
one else as inferiors, with the idea that it enforces that 
conviction ; to have your own set of opinions and ideas, 
without the least reference to what others think ; and to 
express them in terms which would have been far better 
comprehended in the stable than by a company of ladie 
and gentlemen some tw r enty years ago. Even in the high 
est classes, these watering-place manners — so let us call 
them— are on the increase, but only amongst a certain 
get, who give the tone to a set, emulating their merit 3, 
t*elow them. 

It is as well to suggest to the young, u to be early, 
what they will, in later life, wish they had always been.'' 
Unhappily th^se w T ho compose society are prone to bor- 
row their ideas from the class above them, and do not 
think for themselves. Melissa, the attorney's daughter 



soo 



THE CARRIAGE OF LADIES. 



catches up a few words of slang from the county mem 
her : s daughter at the last races, and tninks it pretty tc 
use those phrases vigorously. Philippa, the good old rec» 
tor's favorite child, hears Lady Elizabeth contradict her 
liamma, and takes the same cue herself, as the certainty 
if doing the right thing. Modesty and simplicity, the 
offspring of reverence, dare not show their faces, and are 
loted " slow.'*' 

Since language is the exponent of character, it is ne* 
cessary to refer to its abuse, as if it does not in all cases 
actually show a vulgar and pretentious mind, it is apt to 
render it so. 

An agreeable, modest, and dignified bearing is, in the 
younger period of a woman's existence, almost like a por- 
tion to her. Whatever may be the transient tone and 
fashion of the day, that which is amiable, graceful, and 
true in taste, will always please the majority of the world. 
A young lady, properly so called, should not require to 
have allowances made for her. Well brought up, her ad- 
dress should be polite and gentle, and it will, soon after 
her introduction to society, become easy u to be civil with 
ease." Let us repeat the golden rule, it should be the 
guidance to the minor's morals of society. On first being 
introduced to any stranger, there is no insincerity in the 
display of a certain pleasure. We are advised by Wilber- 
JoTce to give our good-will, at first, on leasehold. To th^ 
rider , a deferential bend or curtsey, though curtsies are 
mow unfashionable, marks the well brought up girl. She 
must not receive her new acquaintance with a hysteric 
laugh, such as I have seen whole families prone to ; nei- 
ther must she look heavy, draw down her mouth, and ap- 
pear as if she did not care for her new acquaintance ; no? 



ON FIRST INTRODUCTION. 



301 



must she look at once over the dress of her victim ( it 
that case) as if taking an inventory of it ; nor appear hur- 
ried, as if glad to get away on the first break in the con- 
versation. She must give a due attention, or reasonable 
time to perfect the introduction, to a certain extent. V:l- 
ub'lifcy is to be avoided; to overpower with a volley of 
words is more cruel than kind ; the words should be gent* 
ly spoken, not drawled, and the voice loud enough to be 
caught easily, but always in an undertone to the power of 
voice alloted by nature. Some persons appear to go to 
the very extent, and deafen you for all other sounds ; 
they may speak the words of wisdom, but' you wish them 
dumb. Others mumble so that you are forced continually 
to express your total inability to follow the drift of their 
remarks ; others drawl so that you feel that life is not 
long enough for such acquaintance. All these are habits 
to be conquered in youth. 

Avoid, especially, affectation. It was once in fashion 
Some ladies put it on with their dresses ; others, by a 
long practice, were successful in making it habitual. It 
became what was called their manner. Sophia has a 
manner; it is not affectation, "it is her manner, only 
manner." Affectation has long ceased to be the fashion, 
and like many other bygone peculiarities, one sees it only 
in shops. 

There is a way also of looking that must be regulated 
in the young. The audacious stare is odious ; the sly, 
>blique, impenetrable look is unsatisfactory. Softly and 
kindly should the eyes be raised to those of the speaker, 
and only withdrawn when the speech, whatever it may be 
is concluded. Immediate intimacy and a familiar man- 
ner are worse than the glum look with which some young 



302 



THE CARRIAGE OF LADIES. 



ladies have a habit of regarding their felk w-mortata 
There is also 9- certain dignity of manners necessary to 
make even the most superior persons respected. This 
dignity can hardly be assumed ; it cannot be taught ; il 
mu3t be the result of intrinsic qualities, aided by a know I 
edge very much overlooked in modern education — " tka 
knowledge how to behave." It is distinct from preten- 
tion, which is about the worst feature of bad manners, and 
creates nothing but disgust. A lady should be equal to 
every occasion. Her politeness, her equanimity, her pre- 
sence of mind, should attend her to the court and to the 
cottage. 

Neither should private vexations be allowed to act 
upon her manners, either in her own house or in those of 
others. If unfit for society, let her refrain from entering 
it. If she enters it, let her remember that every one 
is expected to add something to the general stock of plea- 
sure or improvement. The slight self-command required 
by good society is often beneficial both to the temper and 
spirits. 

One great discredit to the present day is the " fast 
young lady " She is the hoyden of the old comedies, 
without the indelicacy of that character. An avowed 
flirt, she does not scruple to talk of her conquests, real or 
imaginary. You may know her by her phrases. She 
talks of " the men," of such and such "a charmer." 
She does not mind, but rather prefers sitting with " the 
iLen ; ; when they are smoking ; she rides furiously, and 
plays b. lliards. But it is in her marked antagonism to her 
own s< i that the fast young lady is perceptible. She 
shuts v,p her moral perceptions, and sees neither beauty 
nor talent in her own sex. With all this she is often 



THE FAST YOUNG LADY. 



SOS 



dolsntly confident, and calls all idiots who differ from her 
in — I can scarcely say her opinions — but rather her pre- 
judices. 

By degrees, the assumption of assurance which has had 
its source in bad taste, becomes real : a hard blase look 
a free tongue ; and, above all, the latitude of manner* 
shown to her by the other sex, and allowed by her. show 
that the inward characteristics have followed the outward, 
and that she is become insensible to all that she has lost 
of feminine charm, and gained in effrontery. For the in- 
stant a woman loses the true feminine type, she parts with 
half her influence. The "fast girl" is flattered, admired 
openly, but secretly condemned. Many a plain woman 
has gained and kept a heart by being merely womanly 
and gentle. In one respect, however, the fast young lady 
may console herself ; her flirtations are as fearless as her 
expressions ; they do little harm to any but herself. Bro- 
ken hearts have not to turn reproachfully to loud, high- 
spirited, overbearing women, *' jolly girls," as they are 
styled ; " chaff" in which they delight as often offends as 
amuses. To gain an empire over the affections of others, 
there must be somewhat of sentiment or sympathy in the 
nature of woman. Your loud, boastful, positive young 
lady will never be remembered with a soft interest, unless 
there be, perchance, some soft touch in her that redeems 
her from hardness. 

With regard to flirtation, it is difficult to draw a limit 
where the predilection of the moment becomes the more 
tender and serious feeling, and flirtaticn sobers into a more 
honorable form of devoted attention. 

We all dread for our daughters imprudent and harass- 
ing attachments ; let it not, however, be supposed thai 



804 



THE CARRIAGE OF LADIES 



long practised flirtations are without their evil effects cu 
the character and manners. They excite and arouse, but 
they also exhaust the spirit. They expose women to cen- 
sure and to misconstruction ; that is their least evil ; they 
destroy the charm of her manners and the simplicity of 
her heart. Yet the fast young lady clings to flirtation as 
the type of her class ; the privilege of that social free- 
masonry which enables one flirt to discover and unkennel 
another. She glories in number. Where a rival haa 
slain her thousands, she has overthrown her tens of thou- 
sands. She forgets that, with every successive flirtation, 
one charm after another disappears, like the petals from a 
fading rose, until ail the deliciousness of a fresh and pure 
character is lost in the destructive sport. On all these 
points a woman should take a high tone in the beginning 
of her life. It is sure to be sufBciently lowered as time 
goes on. She loses, too, that sort of tact which prevents 
her from discerning when she has gone too far, and the 
" fast young lady' 7 becomes the hardened and practised 
flirt, against whom all men are on their guard. 

It is true that, in comparing the present day with for- 
mer times, we must take into account, when we praise the 
models of more chivalric days, that we know only the 
best specimens : the interior life of the middle classes is 
veiled from us by the mist of ages. Yet it is to be de- 
duced from biography, as well as from the testimony of 
* poets and dramatists, that there was, before the Restora- 
tion, a sort of halo around young women of delicacy an*} 
good breeding, owing, perhaps, in part, to the more retir- 
ed lives that they led, but more to the remnants of that 
fast-departing sentiment of chivalrous respect which youth 
and beauty inspired Then came the upsetting demorali 



THE PRUDE AND THE BLUE-STACKING. 305 

Eation of the Restoration, when all prudent fathers kepi 
their daughters from court, and only the bold and " fast'* 
remained to furnish chronicles for De Grammont : we are 
not, therefore, to judge of the young women of England 
|l y his pictures. The character of English ladies rom 
'again to a height of moral elevation during the placid a*t3 
well-conducted rule of Anne, and continued, as far as re* 
lated to single women, to be the pride and boast of the 
country. Even now, when the reckless flirtation, loud 
voices, unamusing jokes, which are comprised under the 
odious term a chaff," and the masculine tastes of the pre- 
sent day are deprecated, events bring forth from time to 
time such instances of devotion and virtue as must con- 
vince one that there is no degeneracy in our own country- 
women on solid points. Few, indeed, are these instances, 
among the class we have described. We must not look 
for Florence -Nightingales and Miss Marshes among that 
company of the fast. 

Contrasted with the fast young lady, comes forth the 
prude, who sees harm in everything, and her friend the 
blue-stocking. You may know the prude by her stolid 
air of resistance to mankind in general, and by her pat 
ronizing manner to her own sex. Her style of manner is 
like the Austrian policy, repressive ; her style of conver 
satioiij reprehensive. She has started in life with an ira 
inense conceit of her own mental powers and moral attri 
bates, of which the world in general is scarcely worthy 
iler manner is indicative of this conviction ; and become* 
accordingly, without her intending it, offensive, when she 
believes herself to be polite. 

The prude and the pedant are often firm friends, each 
adoring the other. The fast young lady deals largely id 



606 



THE CARRIAGE OF LADIES. 



epithets: li Idiot, dolt, wretch, humbug," drop from hei 
lips ; but the prude and her friend the blue-stocking per- 
mit themselves to use conventional phrases only ; their 
notion of conversation is that it be instructive, and, at 
the same time, mystifying. The young blue stocking has 
nevertheless, large views of the regeneration of society 
and emancipation of woman from her degrading inferiority 
of social position. She speaks in measured phrase : it is 
Tike listening to a book to hear her. She is wrapt up in 
Tennyson and Browning. There is, in all this, a great 
aim at di2play, with a self-righteousness that is very un- 
pleasing. Avoid, therefore, either extreme, and be con- 
vinced that an artless gaiety, tempered by refinement, 
always pleases. Every attempt to obtrude on a company 
subjects either to which they are indifferent, or of which 
they are ignorant, is in bad taste. 

M Man should be taught as though you taught him not, 
And things unknown proposed as things forgot" 

It was well said by a late eminent barrister that litera- 
ture in ladies should be what onions ought to be in cook- 
ery ; you should perceive the flavor, but not detect the 
thing itself. 

The bearing of married women should so far differ from 
that of the unmarried, that there should be greater quiet- 
ness and dignity ; a more close adherence to forms ; and 
an obvious, as well as a real abandonment of the admira- 
tion which has been received before marriage. All flirta- 
tion, however it may be countenanced by the present 
custom of society, should be sternly and foi ever put 
aside. There is no reason for conversation to be lesa 
lively, or society less ugreeable ; it is, indeed, likely to be 



I 
[ 

[ 



THE MARRIED WOMAN. 



307 



more so, if flattered vanity, which may be wounded at 
any moment, interposes, not to mar but to enhance enjoy- 
ment. If a young married woman wishes to be respect- 
ed, and therefore happy in life, there should be a quiet 
pr »priety of manner, a dignity towards the male sex 
which cannot be mistaken in her for prudery, since it i 
consistent with her position and her ties. She should 
change her tone, if that has been "fast;" she should 
not pat heiself on a level with young unmarried women 
of her own age, but should influence and even lead her 
youthful acquaintance into that style of behavior which 
is doubtless much esteemed by men of good taste. She 
should rather discountenance the fast, but has no need t$ 
copy or to bring forward the prude and the blue-stocking. 
And it behooves married women to be more especially 
guarded and sensible in their conduct, when it is remem- 
bered how rapidly the demoralization introduced, perhapg, 
by rur contiguity with France, is extending in every 
class Formerly, among trades-people and professional 
men, separations and divorces were almost unheard of ; 
the vices that lead to them were looked on witk horror 
by the middle classes. But now, the schoolmaster runs 
away with the wife of his apothecary ; the brewer does 
the fashionable with the attorney's wife ; the baker in- 
trigues with the green-grocer's hitherto worthy helpmate, 
Never, in any time, have the seeds of vice been so scat- 
tered by the gale from one condition of social life to ano- 
ther ; and the infection of this appalling wickedness has 
i,een spreading, as the Divorce Court proves, silently, but 
widely, for some years. 

Erery woman, however humble, even however poor, may 
do one thing for society. She may set an example : but 



SOS 



THE CARRIAGE OP LADIES. 



tve call loudly on those in the higher walks of life to :!•: 
so. and to wipe away the reproach on Israel. 

In being introduced to anew acquaintance, there shout] 
be more dignity and a little more distance in the mame? 
of the married woman than that of the single lady 

When she visits in a morning call, let her neither huiij 
off. after a few moments of empty talk ; nor stay too long, 
never considering the convenience of her who receives her. 
She should walk gently down stairs, not talking loud to 
any one as she goes. Never let her apologize for not 
having called sooner, unless positively necessary ; such 
apologies are vastly like affronts. 

In receiving guests the English lady has much to lean? 
from the French hostess. Many a time has the visitor in 
England been met with symptoms of hurry and preoccu- 
pation, remarkably embarrassing to those who call : or the 
carriage is announced directly after her arrival, and the 
lady of the house looks as if she thought her friend ought 
to go. Some under-bred ladies, in country towns, look out 
of the window half of the time, or put tidy their work- 
boxes, making you feel that you are secondary. As an 
immutable law of hospitality and good-breeding, a guest 
should always be ihe first and sole object when alone with 
you. 

It is one advantage of the French system of having a 
day on which to receive morning callers that the lady of 
the house is ready, and willing to let sc many idlers into 
her drawing-room. In no respect does the French lady 
shine so much as in her reception of those who, as she 
appears to think. ;< do her the honor'' to enter her house. 
It is this that makes the difference. In England we seerc 
to think we do people an honor in letting them cross oui 



PHYSICAL CARRIAGE. 309 

thresholds &nd come up our stairs. The French la3y ad- 
vances to meet the ladies, but waits to receive the gentle- 
men, She has a chair ready for every one, and the rooms 
of the fashionable are often full to crowding, yet no on 
is neglected Something civil (and " civil with ease" N 
Appropriate, well-turned, and often gracefully kind, is saiu 
to every one. The stranger or foreigner is not left out of 
the conversation previously going on ; he or she is not 
made to feel " you are not one of us ; the sooner you go 
the better.' 7 The conversation is soon general, though 
without introductions. Having said all you wish, and 
stayed the usual time, you rise, and the lady follows you 
to the door, where a servant is waiting to conduct you 
down stairs and call your carriage into the cour. This 
agreeable accueil forms a strong contrast to the ennui 
which a rnal-o -propos visit often seems to produce in a 
London drawing-room, and the evident despatch with which 
a lady often rings the bell to let you out, often sitting down 
and resuming a conversation before you are half across the 
old and spacious apartment. 

In regard to the physical carriage of women, the grace3 
of an upright form, of elegant and gentle movements, and 
of the desirable medium between stiffness and lounging, 
are desirable both for married and single. The same rules 
and recommendations are applicable to both. Control over 
the countenance is a part of manners. As a lady enters 
a drawing-room, she should look for the mistress of the 
house, speaking first to her. Her face should wear a 
gmile ; she should not rush in head-foremost ; a graceful 
bearing, a light step, an elegant bend to common acquaint- 
ance, a cordial pressure, not shaking, of the hand ex- 
tended to her, are> all requisite to a lady. Let her sink 



310 



THE CARRIAGE OF LADIES. 



gently into a chair, and, on formal occasions, retain hei 
upright position ; neither lounge nor sit timorously on the 
edge of her seat. Her feet should scarcely be shown, and 
not crossed. She must avoid sitting stiffly, as if a ramrod 
were introduced within the dress behind, or stooping 
Excepting a very small and costly parasol, it is not no^f i 
usual to bring those articles into a room. An eleganth 
worked handkerchief is carried in the hand, but not dis- 
played so much as at dinner parties. A lady should con- 
quer a habit of breathing hard, or coming in very hot, or 
even looking very blue and shivery. Anything that de- 
tracts from the pleasure of society is in bad taste. 

In walking the feet should be moderately turned out, 
the steps should be equal, firm, and light. A lady may 
be known by her walk. The short, rapid steps, the shak- 
ing the body from side to side, or the very slow gait which 
many ladies consider genteel, are equally to be deprecated. 
Some persons are endowed with a natural grace that wants 
no teaching ; where it is not the case, the greatest care 
Bhould be taken to engraft it in childhood, to have a master, 
not for dancing alone, but for the even more important at- 
tributes of the lady's carriage. To bow with grace, or 
to curtesy when required, to move across a room are 
points which strike the attention almost unconsciously to 
ourselves, and the neglect of which often provokes com- 
ment even on those in other respects well qualified to adosx 
society. 



PART II. 

ffil INDIVIDUAL IN INDIYIDIAL RELATIONS 



CHAPTER IX. 

IN PUBLIC THE PROMENADE, ETC. 

So now, my dear Sir and my dear Madam, you are dressed, 
you have your accomplishments ready for use, you know 
how to carry yourself, what good habits to attend to, what 
bad ones to avoid ; you have made a full examination of 
yourself ; you feel confident that you are " a complete gen- 
tleman," or u a charming woman;" you have had lunch, 
you feel comfortable and happy, and you say to yourself, 
" Let me go out and put these good rules into practice." 

So then, if you are a man, you consult nobody but youi 
#atch ; if you are a young lady, you consult mamma, and 
both having obtained the requisite assent, you, sir, issue 
forth with your watch, and you, mademoiselle, with your 
chaperon, and you go to meet your acquaintance in the 
walk. Where the said walk may be is little matter. In 
the days of the Stuarts, you would have repaired to the 
transepts of old St. Paul's, then the fashionable promenade. 
In a later reign you would have turned your steps to the 
Mall," and met Beau Tibbs there in all his glory. N>w, 

(311) 



312 



IN PUBLIC. THE PROMENADE, ETC. 



if you live in London, you make for Rotten Row ; if in 
a watering-place, for the Promenade or the Parade, or 
bref, whatever may be the spot chosen for tbe gay peacocks 
to strut in. 

You have not been there two minutes before you meet 
somebody you know. But that is a very vague term ; 
fur you may know people in almost a dozen different 
ways. First, then, you ki.ow them slightly, and wish to 
recognize them slightly. Your course is simple enough. 
If you are a lady, you have the privilege of recognizing a 
gentleman. You wish to do so, because there is no rea- 
son that you should not be polite to him. So when you 
come quite near to him and see that he is looking at you, 
you bow slightly, and pass on. There are one or two 
things to be avoided even in this. You must not, how- 
ever short-sighted, raise your glasses and stare at him 
through them before you bow ; but as it is very awkward 
for a lady to bow by mistake to a gentleman she does not 
know, you should look at him well before you come up to 
him. If you are a man, on the other hand, and you meet 
a lady whom you know slightly, you must wait till she 
bows to you. You then lift your hat quite off your head 
with the hand, whichever it may be, which is farther froin 
the person you meet. Y T ou lift it off your bead, but that 
is all : you have no need, as they do in Prance, to show 
the world the inside thereof ; so you immediately replace 
it. In making this salute, you bend your body slightly. 
If 9 which should rarely occur, you happen to be smoking, 
you take your cigar from your mouth with the other 
band ; so too, if you have your hands in your pockets, 
which I hope you will not, you take them out before bow- 



THE SALUTE. 



313 



!Dg. To neglect these little observances would show a 
want of respect. 

Bat suppose it is a person whom you know rather more 
than slightly, and to whom you may speak. Well, then 
no man may stop to speak to a lady until she stops to 
speak to him. The lady, in short, has the right in all ca3ts 
to be friendly or distant. Women have not many rights ; 
lot us gracefully concede the few that they possess. You 
raise your hat all the same, but you do not shake hands 
unless the lady puts out hers, which you may take as a 
sign of particular good- will. In this case you must not 
stop long, but the lady again has the right to prolong tho 
interview at pleasure. It is she, not you, who must make 
the move onwards. If she does this in the middle of a 
conversation, it is a proof that she is w r illing that you 
should join her, and if you have no absolute call to go 
your way, you ought to do so. But if she does so with a 
slight inclination, it is to dismiss you, and you must then 
again bow and again raise your hat. 

If, however, you are old acquaintance without any quar- 
rel between, you should, whether gentleman or lady, at 
once stop and give the hand and enter into conversation. 
The length of this conversation must depend on the place 
where you meet. If in the streets, it should be very 
short; if in a regular promenade, it maybe longer; but 
as a rule, old friends do better to turn round and join 
forces. On the other hand, if you are walking with a 

san whom your lady friend does not know, you must net 
Stop , still less so, if she is walking with a lady or gen 
tleman whom you do not know. If, however, a decide'] 
inclination is evinced by either to speak to the other, an<3 

on so stop, the stranger ought not to walk on, but tc 
14 



614 



THE PROMENADE, ETC. 



Btop also, and it then behooves you to introduce him 01 
her. Such an introduction is merely formal, and goes no 
Curther. 

Lastly, let us suppose that you want to " cut" youf 
^xpiaintance. fie ! Who invented the cut ? What de- 
mon put it into the head of man or woman to give tbi3 
mute token of contempt or hatred ? I do not know, but 1 
do know that in modern civilized life, as it goes, the cui 
is a great institution. The finest specimen of it which 
we have on record is that of Beau Brummell and George IV. 
These two devoted friends had quarrelled, as devot- 
ed friends are wont to do, and when they met again, 
George, then Prince, was walking up St. James' Street 
on the arm of some companion, and Brummell, dressed to 
perfection, was coming down it on that of another. The 
two companions happened to know one another, and all 
four stopped. George the Prince was determined to ia 
nore George the Beau's existence, and talked to his com- 
panion without appearing to see him. George the Bean 
expected this, but was still mortified. They all bowed 
and moved aw T ay ; but before the Prince was out of hear- 
ing, Frummell said to his companion in a loud voice, 
" WWs your fat friend?" It is well known that the 
Regens grieved at that time most bitterly over his grow* 
mg corpulency, and the Beau was avenged. 

But my advice to anybody who wishes to cut an ac 
qaaintance is, moit emphatically, Don't. In the first place, 
it is vulgar, and a custom which the vulgar affect. It ia 
pretentious, and seems to say, " You are not good enough 
for me to know." All pretension is vulgar. In the next 
place, it does the cutter as much injury as the cuttee. The 
latter, if worthless, revenges himself by denouncing th« 



THE CUT. 



315 



former as stuck up, unpolite, ill-bred , if himself well- 
bred, he says nothing about it, but inwardly condemns and 
despises you. Now, in a world where love is at a premium, 
and even respect is not cheap, it is a pity to add ; by foolish 
wide, to the number of those who dislike you ; but, if 
here were no other consideration, it is extremely unchris* 
tian, to say the least of it. It is a giving of offence ; and 
woe to him by whom offences come. It is the consequence 
either of pride or of judging your neighbor, both of whict 
are bad faults. Lastly, it raises up for ever between two 
people a barrier which i. either years nor regret can sur 
mount. It is a silent but desperate quarrel, but, unlike 
other quarrels, it is never followed by a reconciliation. 
The Christian law used to be, " If you have aught againil 
your brother, go and expostulate with him." The mode, n 
social law — not, however, the law of good society — mak 3 
an amendment : " Do not take the trouble to go to him- 
it will do no good — but cut him dead when you meet, an3 
so get rid of him for ever." Yes, " Dead !" Dead 
indeed ; for all the love, all the forgiveness there mighi 
flow between you, he is as good as dead to you. what is 
more, you have killed him. 

But the cut is often a silly measure, and far too promptly 
resorted to. At Bath you have known the Simpkinses, 
and even been intimate with them, but in Town you take 
t into your head they are " inferior you meet and 
*ut them. Well, a fortnight later, you find that Ladj 
So-and-so is particularly partial to the Simpkinses. u Dg 
you know those charming girls ?" she asks, and how foolish 
you then feel. Or again, Captain Mactavish is your best 
and most amusing friend ; slander whispers in your ear, 
(i Mactavish was cashiered for fraudulent transactions M 



816 



THE PROMENADE, ETC. 



You go out, happen to meet, and cut him dead. The next 
day the truth comes out. It is another Mactavish who was 
cashiered, and your friend is a model of honor. What 
can you do ? You cannot tell him you made a mistake 
It would then be his turn to take a high hand. " No 
ac V } says he, when you offer to renew the friendship, " if 
you could so soon believe evil of me, you are not the man 
for Mactavish. Besides, you cut me yesterday, and I can 
forgive everything but a cut.'' Or again, papa is alarmed 
at the attentions of young Montmorency. " A penniless 
boy making love to Matilda !" he cries indignantly, and 
orders the said Matilda and her mamma to cut him. Mont- 
morency, in pique, runs off to Miss Smith, offers, and 
marries her. It is then discovered that Montmorency has 
a bachelor uncle whose whole fortune will come to him, 
and Matilda is miserable. 

But there are some cases in which a cut becomes the 
sole means of ridding one's-self of annoyance, and with 
young ladies especially so. A girl has no other means of 
escaping from the familiarity of a pushing and thick- 
skinned man. She cannot always be certain that the 
people introduced to her are gentlemen ; pleased with them 
at first, she gives them some encouragement, till some oc- 
casion or other lays bare the true character of her new 
acquaintance. What is she to do ? He requires so little to 
encourige him, that even a recognition would be sufficient 
*o bring him on. She has nothing left but to cut him 
Jead. The cut, however, should be positively the last re- 
source. There are many ways, less offensive and more 
iignitied, of showing that you do not wish for intimacy , 
the stiff bow without a smile is enough to show a man of 
saij preception that he need not make farther advances 



THE CUT. 



31* 



m& as for cutting people of real or imaginary inferiority 
it is the worst of vulgarity. We laugh at the silly pride 
of the small dressmaker who declines to go through the 
kitchen. " Not accustomed to associate with menials," 
she tells you, and knocks at the front door ; we smile at 
the costermonger who cannot lower himself to recognise 
the crossing-sweeper ; and how absurd to those of a highei 
class than our own must the Smiths, whose father was a 
physician, appear, when they cut the Simpkinses, whose 
progenitor is only a surgeon, and so on. But if you have 
once known people you should always know them, if they 
have not done anything to merit indignation. If you 
have once been familiar with the Simpkinses, you are not 
only inconsistent and vulgar, but yoti accuse yourself of 
former want of perception, if now you discover that they 
are too low for you to know. 

But, if a cut must be made, let it be done with as little 
offensiveness as possible. Let the miserable culprit not 
be tortured to death, or broken in the social wheel, like a 
Damiens, however treasonable his offence. Never, on any 
account, allow him to speak to you, and then staring him 
in the face, exclaim, u Sir, I do not know you !" or, as 
ome people, trying to make rudeness elegant, would say, 
" Sir, I have not the honor of your acquaintance nor 
behead him w r ith the fixed stare ; but rather let him see 
that you have noticed his approach, and then turn ycur 
head aw T ay. If he is thick-skinned or daring enough to 
come up to you after that, bow to him stiffly and pass on, 
In this way you avoid insolence, and cause less of tha 
destroyer of good manners — confusion. 

There are some definite rules for cutting. A gentle- 
man must never cut a lady under any circumstances. An 



818 



THE PROMENADE, ETC. 



unmarried lady should never cut a married one. A ser- 
vant of whatever class — for there are servants up to 
royalty itself — should never cut his master ; near relations 
should never cut one another at all ; and a clergyman 
should never cut anybody, because it is at best an unchris 
tian action. Perhaps it may be added that a superior 
should never cut his inferior in rank ; he has many other 
w^ys of annihilating him. Certainly it may be laid down 
th it people holding temporary official relations must waive 
thoir private animosities, and that two doctors, for instance, 
however much opposed to one another, should never intro- 
duce the cut over the bed of a patient. 

I pass now to a much pleasanter theme, that of saluta- 
tion. I know not when men first discovered that some 
sign was necessary to show their good-will to one another 
Hatred, the ugliest of all the demons, (and they are not 
renowned for beauty), took a reserved seat early in the 
history of the world, and the children of Cain and Seth, 
if they ever met, must have found it necessary to hold out 
some human flag of truce. What this may have been we 
have no records to prove, but it is certain that prostra- 
tion, which made a man helpless for the moment, was a 
very early form of salutation, and one that has not yet 
gone out, for kneeling, which is only a simpler form of it, 
it still preserved in our courts. But this was too awkward 
a practice for everyday life, especially when men gathered 
'nto cities and met their fellow-creatures daily in large 
immbers. Fancy a member of Parliament bobbing down cu 
hia ' r% marrow-bones*' whenever he met a constituent, or a 
clergyman wearing the knees of his black " limb covers'" 
into shining patches as he walked the parish and met Tim 
Miles and George Giles at every corner. The question ther 



ABOUT SALUTATION. 



319 



arose how to show the same good-will without the same in- 
convenience, and which of the senses should be employed 
in it. We looked at the brute creation, which, in its gift of 
instinct, seemed to have as it were a direct revelation for 
luch things, but found little counsel. Dogs wagged theii j 
tails, but their masters had none to wag, except indeed 
among the Niam-Niam, and even with them it is doubtful 
wnether the necessary pliability exists. Horses know their 
friends by the smell, and Mr. Rarey tells us that we need 
never fear a horse which has sniffed us all over, for the sim* 
plo reason that it will no longer fear us. But though it is 
said you may tell a Chinaman, as the ancients told an Ibe- 
rian, par son odeur, and though you may certainly recognize 
a modern fop by his " smelling of musk and insolence," yet 
it does not appear that there is any perfume by which the 
human being can assure you of his good intentions. The 
prostration was probably therefore first followed by a deep 
inclination of the body,, which we preserve faintly enough 
in our modern bow, and which was the recognized form cf 
worship in several eastern countries. Another modifica- 
tion of prostration, which was preserved in this country 
between servants and masters till the end of the seven- 
teenth century, was that of " making a knee," as Ben 
Jonson calls it, which was nothing more than slightly 
bending one leg and so lowering the body. But these 
forms were too much for some people and too little for 
others. The children of this world soon discovered that 
they were not all children alike, and made early a marked 
distinction of persons. The salute fit for a chieftain was 
much too good for a serf, and the serf himself was not 
going to make a knee to a brother serf, however much h« 
liked him. In fact, it became necessary to distinguish be- 



820 



THE PROMENADE, ETC 



tween the amount of respect due to position (for charactel 
soon lost its due recognition), and the amount of cordial- 
ity due to friewoisip. Thus some form of inclination re- 
mained in use for the salute of respect, and thus the eye 
was the sense there employed. The principle of respect 
was brought variously into practice, but in no way so 
prominently as that of baring some part of the body, 
thereby putting the saluter to a temporary inconvenience, 
and laying him open to the attack of the saluted. In one 
country the shoes were taken oft*, in another the head- 
gear, though St. Paul's philosophic, if not very gallant, 
distinction relative to the honor of a man laying in hia 
head, and that of a woman elsewhere, would seem to 
make the Orientals more consistent in keeping their tur- 
bans on and taking off their slippers. In no country, 
however, do we Lear of women taking their bonnets off ; 
as a salute, though in some to unveil the face was a mark 
of great reverence. That, of course would depend on 
whether it was a pretty face or not : but however this may 
be, the forms of salutation which have been retained 
among European nations are much the same : the bow, 
namely, as a relic of prostration, and baring the head, 
among men : while among women the prostration was 
kept up to a much later date, and the curtsey, in w*jeh 
the knees were bowed, is not yet quite vanished from the 
modesty of our land. Maid-servants and country wives 
retain it still. 

But when we come to cordialitv we find another sense 
bi ought into action. ^Yorcls were known to be concealers 
of thought, so that the sense of hearing was out of the 
question, while smelling and tasting were unanimously 
foted brutish ; and those poets who talk about " tasting 



THE KISS. 



821 



the honey of her lips," are fitted to be laureates in th$ 
cannibal islands rather than in the British kingdoms. 
There remained then the sense of touch, which, if no* 
the most delicate, is one which the human race particu* 
larly depend on, as our blind children learn to know ever 
colors thereby. Besides, owing to the absence of fur in 
our race, the sense of touch is more acute in us than 
in any other animals. 

Well, on the touch-and-know principle, some races im- 
mediately undertook to conduce to each other's comfort as 
a token of cordiality. In the frost-bitten regions of Lap- 
land, for instance, it is the fashion to run up to your 
friend and rub his nose with yours. It is a mute ex- 
pression of the wish that his proboscis may not drop off 
some cold morning ; and indeed this custom must assist in 
preserving that graceful feature from the effects of frost, 
so that the man with the largest acquaintance is also like- 
ly to have the largest nose. In Southern Africa again, 
where the feet get terribly dry from the heat of the soil, 
it is the custom to rub toes ; and in some country or other, 
the height of elegance is to moisten the hand in the most 
natural manner, and smear your friend's face with it. 

These customs, however, must have had a somewhat 
local appreciation, and have not received general approba- 
tion. There are now two recognised modes of cordial 
salutation — the kiss and the shake of the hand. Whether 
kissing was known in Paradise, as Byron, wh; had some 
experience of it (kissing, I mean, not Paradise), assures 
us: 

" One remnant of Paradise still is on earth, 
And Eden revives in the first Iri&s of love ; 1 • 

We cannot stop to investigate, but that it was a very earljf 
14* 



822 



THE PROMENADE, ETC. 



discovery, those who read their Bibles maj find out. It 
is a beautiful custom, an angelic custom ; I say it without 
blushing, because it was originally, and in many countries 
is— let us hope even in England — the most innocent thing 
in the world. Certainly, about the period of our own 
Bia, the "kiss of peace" was a mark of love between 
men though in some cases it was made to serve the dead- 
liest ends. It is still in use between men in France and 
Germany. The parent kisses his grown-up son on the 
forehead : friends press their lips to others' cheeks : bro- 
thers throw their arms round one another's necks and 
embrace like lovers. Alack and alas ! for our stiff hu- 
manity. Here in England it is reserved for children and 
girls, and for Minnie to stop my lips with when I ara 
going to scold her. Well, it is a beautiful old custom, all 
the same, and if we were not so wicked in this nine- 
teenth century, we should have more of it. In the days 
of good Queen Bess it was the height of politeness to 
kis3 your neighbor's wife, and our grandfathers tell us 
that on entering a room they kissed all the women present 
as a matter of course. This privilege is reserved now T for 
Scotch cousins, who make a very free use of it. But, 
alas ! this beautiful symbol of pure affection, which sent 
a thrill from warm lips through all the frame, is now be- 
come a matter of almost shame to us. It is a deed to b$ 
ione belli id the door, as Horace Smith hints. 

" Sydney Morgan was playing the organ, 
While behind the vestry door 
Horace Tayiss was snatching a kiss 
From the lips of Hannah Moore." 

Poor Hannah Moore ! how the very thought must hav« 
ibri veiled her up. 



THE KISS. 



823 



The kiss of mere respect was made on the hand, a good 
old custom still retained in Germany, and among a few 
old beaux at home. Whether it was pure respect whick 
induced Leicester often to kiss the Virgin Queen on her 
lips, " which," we are told, " she took right heartily, 7 '* 1 
Cannot say ; but at all events in this day, the kissing of , 
the lips is reserved for lovers, and should scarcely be per- 
foimed in public. But the kiss of friendship and relat- 
ionship on the cheeks or forehead is still kept up a little, 
and might be much more common. I like to see a young 
man kiss his mother on her wrinkled brow ; it shows 
" there is no humbug about him. 57 I like to see sisters 
kiss, and old friends when they meet again. But I may 
like what I like. The world is against me, and as it is a 
delicate subject I will say no more on it, save only this, — 
As a general rule, this act of affection is excluded from 
public eyes in this country, and there are people who are 
ashamed even to kiss a brother or father on board the 
steamer which is to take him away for some ten or twenty 
years. But then there are people in England who are 
ashamed of showing any feeling, however natural, how- 
ever pure. This is a matter in which I would not have 
etiquette interfere. Let the world say" it is rustic, or even 
vulgar, to kiss your friends on the platform of a railway, 
before they start or when they arrive. It is never vulgar 
to be loving, and love that is real love will show itself) 
though there were ten Acts of Parliament against it. 

" A cold hand and a warm heart" is an old saw, ^hich 
may be true for the temperature of the skin, but is cer- 
tainly not so for the mode of pressing it. A warm heart, 
I am persuaded, gives a warm shake of the hand, and u 
man must be a hypocrite ; who can shake yours heartily 



324 



THE PROMENADE, ETC. 



while he hates you. The hand is after all the most natu- 
ral limb to salute with. Next to those of the lips, th« 
nerves of touch are most highly developed in the fingers, 
which may be accounted for by the perpetual friction and 
irritation tc which they are subjected, for we know thai 
th)se portions of the skin are the most ticklish which un- 
dergo the most friction. However this may be, the hand 
is the most convenient member to salute with. The toe 
rubbing process, for instance, must subject one to the risk 
of toppling over in any but a dignified manner ; ' : mak- 
ing a knee'' was liable to be followed by breaking a nose, 
if the balance were not carefully preserved, and as for the 
total prostration system, I feel convinced that it must 
have been given up by common consent after dinner, and 
by corpulent personages. But the charm of the hand, as 
a saluting member, lies in the fact of its grasping power, 
which enables the shaker to vary the salute at pleasure. 
The freemasons well know this, and though they begin 
the mysterious salute with signs for the eye, they are rare- 
ly satisfied till they have followed them up by the grasp, 
which varies for almost every grade, for apprentice, mas- 
ter, royal arch, knight templar, and all their other absur- 
dities. My worthy masons, do not suppose that you 
possess a monopoly of this art. There is as cunning a 
freemasonry in all society, and the mode of taking, grasp- 
ing, and shaking the hand, varies as much according to 
circumstances, and even more, than your knuckling sys- 
tem, 

First, there is the case where two hands simply take 
iold of one another. This is the mode of very shy peo- 
ple, and of two lovers parting in tears : but then in the 
wie case the hold is brief, in the other continued. Next 



HAND-SHAKING 



325 



there is the case where one hand is laid clammily in the 
other, which slightly presses the fingers, not going dowi: 
to the palm. This is a favorite mode with ladies, espe- 
cially young ladies, towards slight acquaintance ; but 
when my heart flutters a little for Mariana's smile, 1 
should be piqued indeed, nay, shocked, if there were 
nothing more than fingers laid in my hand, no responsive 
thumb to complete the manoeuvre, and when Sybilla told 
me she could not love me, and when she would not listen, 
but hurried away up the terrace steps, and turned to give 
me the last — last shake of a hand, I have never touched 
again, I cannot tell you what of despair she saved me in 
the friendly warmth — I do not say affection — with which 
she wrung my hand that passionately clung round hers. 
Ah ! Sybilla, better have left that hand with me, have 
given it me for ever, than to the wealthy wig-wearing, 
rouged and powdered bear, to whom they sold you after- 
wards. 

Next, there is the terribly genteel salute of the under- 
bred man, who with a smirk on his face, just touches the 
tips of your fingers, as if they were made of glass ; there 
is the blunt honest shake of the rough, who lays out his 
hand with the palm open and the heart in the hollow of 
it, stretches it well out, and shakes and rattles the one 
you put into it ; there is the pouncing style of him who? 
affects but does not feel cordiality, who brings the angle 
between thumb and finger down upon you like gaping 
shears 4 there is the hailing style of the indifferent man 
who seems to say to your hand, " Come and be shaken ;" 
there is the style of the man who gives your hand one 
toss, as if he were ringing the dinner-bell ; and another 
bell-ringing style is that of milady, who shakes her own 



<526 



THE PROMENADE, ETC. 



hand from the wrist with a neat fine little movement, and 
does not care whether yours shakes in it or not ; there ia 
genius who clasps your hands in both of his and beams 
into your face ; and there is love who seizes it to press it 
tighter and more tightly, and sends his whole soul through 
the fingers. 

But the styles are infinite ; there is the mesmeric style 
where the shaker seems to make a pass dow T n you before 
getting at your hand : there is papa's style, coming down 
with an open-handed smack, that you may hear half the 
length of Parliament Street ; there is the solemn style, 
where the elbow is tucked into the side, like the wing of 
a trussed fowl, and the long fingers are extended with the 
thumb in close attendance ; there is the hearty double- 
knock style of three rapid shakes ; there is the melan- 
choly style, where the hand is heaved up once or twice 
slowly and lowered despairingly ; there is the adulatory 
style, where it is raised towards the bent head as if to be 
•nspected ; there is the hail-fellow style, where the arm is 
stretched out sideways, and the eyes say, " There's my 
hand, old boy !" Then of styles to be always avoided, 
there is the swinging style, where your arm is tossed from 
side to side : there is the wrenching style, by which your 
knuckles are made to ache for five minutes after ; and 
there is the condescending style, where two fingers are 
held out to you as a great honor. But, the best style of 
all, me judice, is the hearty single clasp, full-handed, 
warm, momentary, just shaken enough to make the gentk 
grasp well felt but not painful. 

The etiquette of hand-shaking is simple. A man hai 
no right to take a lady's hand till it is offered. It were a 



HAND-SHAKING. 



no" 

Da* I 



robbery which she would punish. He has even less right 
to pinch or to retain it. Two ladies shake hands gently 
and softly. A young lady gives her hand, but does not 
shake a gentleman's, unless she is his friend. A lady 
should always rise to give her hand ; a gentleman, jf 
course, never dares do so seated. On introduction in a 
room, a married lady generally offers her hand, a young 
lady not ; in a ball-room, where the introduction is to 
dancing, not to friendship, you never shake hands ; and 
as a general rule, an introduction is not followed by shak- 
ing hands, only by a bow. It may perhaps be laid down, 
that the more public the place of introduction, the less 
hand-shaking takes place ; but if the introduction be par- 
ticular, if it be accompanied by personal recommendation, 
such as, <4 1 w^ant you to know my friend Jones," or, if 
Jones comes with a letter of presentation, then you give 
Jones your hand, and warmly too. Lastly, it is the priv- 
ilege of a superior to offer or withhold his or her hand, 
bo that an inferior should never put his forward first. 

There are other modes of salutation, which, being too 
familiar, are well avoided, such as clapping a man on the 
shoulder, digging him in the ribs, and so forth. The 
French rarely shake hands, and only with intimate friends. 
They then give the left hand, because that is nearer the 
heart, la main du coeur. The most cordial way of shak- 
ing hands is to give both at once, but this presupposes s 
certain or uncertain amount of affection. 

When you meet a friend in the street, it must depend 
on the amount of familiarity whether you walk with him 
or not, but with a lady you must not walk unless invited 
either verbally or tacitly A young ar.d single man should 



328 



THE PROMENADE, ETC. 



never walk with a young lady m public places, unless 
especially asked to do so. How Sybilla's words thrilled 
through me, when she said. " Mamma, I am going to 

walk home with Mr. , if you have no objection." I 

had not proposed it, it was her own doing. No wonder 
I am a bachelor still, and she the Amy in Locksley Hall ' 
If you walk with a lady alone in a large town, particu- 
larly in London, you must offer her your arm ; elsewhere 
it is unnecessary, and even marked. 

In driving with ladies, a man must take the back seat 
of the carriage, and when it stops, jump out first and offei 
his hand to let them out. In your own carriage you al- 
ways give the front seat to a visitor, if you are a man, 
but a lady leaves the back seat for a gentleman. 

In railway travelling you should not open a conversa- 
tion with a lady unknown to you, until she makes some 
advance towards it. On the other hand, it is polite to 
speak to a gentleman. If, however, his answers be curt, 
and he evinces a desire to be quiet, do not pursue the 
conversation. On your part, if addressed in a railway 
carriage, you should always reply politely. If you have 
a newspaper, and others have not, you should offer it to 
the person nearest to you. An acquaintance begun on a 
railway may sometimes go farther, but, as a general rule, 
it terminates when one of the parties leaves the carriage. 
A Frenchman always takes off his hat in a carriage where 
there are ladies, whether a private or public one. This 
19 a politeness which really well-bred Englishmen imitate. 
If you go in an omnibus (and there is no reason why 2 
gentleman should not do so), it is well to avoid convex 
sation, but If you enter into it, beware of inflammatory 



IN PUBLIC CONVEYANCES 



829 



subjects. An acquaintance of mine once talked politics 
to a radical in an omnibus. The two got heated, and 
more heated, and my acquaintance — for he was no fi iend, 
I assure you — ended by driving his opponent's head 
through the window of the vehicle. It w T as agrte&hle-— 
ttr? — to see his name next day in the police reports. 



CHAPTER X 



EN PRIVATE. VISITS. INTRODUCTIONS, ETO, 

There are many great men who go unrewarded for the 
services they render to humanity. 2say, even their names 
are lost, while we daily bless their inventions. One of 
these is he, if it was not a lady, who introduced the use 
of visiting cards. In days of yore a slate or a book was 
kept, and you wrote your name on it. But then that 
could only be done when your acquaintance was "not at 
home."' To the French is due the practice of making the 
delivery of a card serve the purpose of the appearance of 
the individual, and with those who have a large acquaint- 
ance this custom is becoming very common in large towns. 

The visit or call is. however, a much better institution 
than is generally supposed. It has its drawbacks. It 
wastes much time ; it necessitates much small talk. It 
obliges one to dress on the chance of finding a friend at 
home ; but for all this it is almost the only means of 
making an acquaintance ripen into a friendship. In the 
visit all the strain, which general society somehow neces- 
sitates, is thrown off. A man receives you in his rooms 
cordially, and makes you welcome, not to a stiff dinner 
but an easy-chair and conversation. A lady, who in tba 
ball-room or party has been compelled to limit her conver- 
sation, can here speak more freely. The talk can descend 
from generalities to personal inquiries, and need I say that if 

(330) 



LETTERS OF INTRODUCTION. 



331 



yen wish to know a young lady truly, you must see hei 
at home, and by daylight. 

The main points to be observed about visits are the pro- 
per occasions and the proper hours. Now, between actual 
friends there is little need of etiquette in these respects 
A friendly visit may be made at any time, on any occasion 
True, you are more welcome when the business of the day 
is over, in the afternoon rather than the morning, and you 
must, even as a friend, avoid calling at meal-times. But. 
on the other hand, many people receive visits in the eve- 
ning — another French custom — and certainly this is the 
best time to make them. 

As however, during the season, you have but a slight 
chance of finding your friends at home in the evening, 
another custom has been imported from France into the 
best circles of English society, that, namely, of fixing a 
day in the week on which to receive evening visitors with- 
out the ceremony of a party. The visit may then last 
from one to two hours, and be made either in morning or 
evening dress, the latter being the better. However, this 
custom is not yet a common one, but I beg to recommend 
it to those who wish to have friends as well as mere ac- 
quaintance. 

The principal class of visits, then, is those of ceremony. 
The occasions for these are — with letters of introduction, 
after certain parties, and to condole or congratulate. 
k In the first case, letters aie raiely if ever given to per- 
\ sons in Town. The residence in town is presumed to be 
transitory, and letters of introduction are only addressed 
to permanent residents. On the other hand, they are ne- 
cessary in the country, particularly when a family take up 
their residence in a district, and wish to enter the best 



882 VISITS. INTRODUCTIONS, ETC. 

society of the place. In this last case the inhabitants al- 
ways cull first on the new-comer, unless he brings a letter 
of introduction, when he is the first to call, but instead 
of going in. leaves it with a sard or cards, and waits till 
this formal visit is returned. In returning a visit made 
with a letter it is necessary to go in if the family is at 
home. " A letter of introduction, says La Fontaine, : is 
a draft at sight, and you must cash it." In large towns 
there is no such custom. It would be impossible for the 
residents to call on every new comer, and half of the new 
arrivals might be people whose acquaintance they would 
not wish to improve. If however, you take a letter of 
introduction with any special object, whether of business 
or of a private or particular character, you are right to 
send in the letter with vour card, and ask for admission. 
Such letters should only be given by actual friends of the 
persons addressed, and to actual friends of their own. 
Never, if you are wise, give a letter to a person whom 
you do not know, nor address one to one whom you know 
slightly. The letter of introduction, if actually given to 
rts bearer, should be left open, that he may not incur the fate 
of the Persian messenger, who brought tablets of intro- 
duction recommending the new acquaintance to cut hig 
head off. A letter of this kind must therefore be carefully 
worded stating in full the name of the person introduced, 
but with as few remarks about him as possible. It is gen- 
erally sufficient to say that he is a friend of yours, whom 
you trust your other friend will receive with attention, <tc. 
In travelling it is well to have as many letters as possible 
but not to pin your faith on them. In foreign towns it is 
the custom for the new comer to call on the residents first 
just the reverse of ours. 



VISITS OF CEREMONY. 



Ceremonial visits must be made the day after a ball 
when it will suffice to leave a card ; within a day or two 
after a dinner party, when you ought to make the visit 
personally, unless the dinner was a semi-official one, such 
%h the Lord Mayor's ; and within a week of a small party, 
when the call should certainly be made in person. All 
these visits should be short, lasting from twenty minutes 
to half-an-hour at the most. There is one species of ''bore" 
more detestable than any other — the man, namely, who 
comes and sits in your drawing-room for an hour or two. 
preventing you from going out to make your own calls, or 
interrupting the calls of others. It is proper when you 
have been some time at a visit, and another caller is an- 
nounced, to rise and leave, not indeed immediately, as if 
you shunned the new arrival, but after a moment or two> 
In other cases, when you doubt when to take your leave, 
you must not look at your watch, but wait till there is a 
lull in the conversation. 

Visits of condolence and congratulation must be mads 
about a week after the event. If you are intimate with 
the person on whom you call, you may ask in the first 
case for admission ; if not, it is better only to leave a card ; 
and make your " kind inquiries" of the servant, who ia 
generally primed in what manner to answer them. In 
visits of congratulation you should always go in, and be 
hearty in your congratulations. Visits of condolence are 
terrible inflictions to both receiver and giver, but they 
may be made less so by avoiding, as much as consistent 
with sympathy, any allusion to the past. The receive! 
does well to abstain from tears. A lady of my acquaint- 
ance, who had lost her husband, was receiving such a visit 
in her best crape. She wept profusely for some time upon 



384 



VISITS. INTRODUCTION, ETC. 



the best of broad-hemmed cambric handkerchiefs, and then 
turning to her visitor said : : ' I am sure you will be glad 
to hear that Mr. B has left me most comfortably pro- 
vided for. "Hinc ilka lacrymcc. Perhaps they would 
hs^e been more sincere if he had left her without a penny. 
At the same time, if you have not sympathy and heart I 
enough to pump up a little condolence, you will do better 
to avoid it. but take care that your conversation is not too 
gay. Whatever you may feel, you must respect the sor- 
rows of others. 

On marriage, cards are sent round to such people as 
you wish to keep among your acquaintance, and it is then 
their part to call first on the young couple, when w r ithin 
distance. 

I now come to a few hints about calling in general : and 
first as to the time thereof. In London, the limits of call- 
in g hours are fixed, namely, from three to six, but in the 
country people are sometimes odious enough to call in the 
morning before lunch. This should not be done even by 
intimate friends. Everybody has. or ought to have, hia 
or her proper occupation id the morning, and a caller will 
then sometimes find the lady of the house unprepared. It 
is necessary before calling to ascertain the hours at which 
your friends lunch and dine, and not to call at these. A 
ceremonial call from a slight acquaintance ought to be re 
turned the next day, or at longest within three days, unless 
the distance be great. In the same way, if a stranger 
comes to stay at the house of a friend, in the country, or 
in small country towns, every resident ought to call on 
him or her, even if she be a young lady, as soon as pos- 
sible after the arrival. These calls should be made in per- 
§on, and returned the next day. 



LEAVING CARDS. 



335 



The card is the next point. It should be perfectly 
simple, A lady's card is larger than a gentleman's. The 
former may be glazed, the latter not. The name, -with a 
simple a Mr." or " Mrs." before it is sufficient, except ia 
ihe case of acknowledged rank, as " The Earl of Ducie/ 
u Colonel Marjoribanks," " The Hon. Mrs. Petre," an 
bo forth. All merely honorary titles or designations of 
position or office should be left out, except in cards des- 
tined for purely official visits. Thus our ambassador at 
Paris returns official visits with a card thus : " L'Ambas- 
sadeur de Sa Majeste Britannique," but those of acquaint- 
ance with " Lord Cowley" simply. The address may be 
put in ^he corner of the card. The engraving should be 
in simple Italian writing, not Gothic or Eoman letters, 
very small and without any flourishes. Young men have 
adopted recently the foreign custom of having their Chris- 
tian and surname printed without the "Mr." A young 
lady does not require a separate card as long as she is liv- 
ing with her mother; her name is then engraved under 
uer mother's, as : — 

Mrs. Jones Brownsmith. 
Miss Jones Brownsmith. 
Or if there be more than one daughter presented, thus :— 

Mrs. Jones Brownsmith. 

The Miss Jones Brownsmiths. 

Which latter form can be defended as more idiomatic, if 
less grammatical, than " The Misses Jones Brownsmith ;" 
but it is a matter of little importance. I cannot enter here 
on a grammatical discussion, and the one form is as com- 
133011 as the other. 

You will find a small card-case neater and more con veil- 



888 



VISETS. INTRODUCTIONS. ETC. 



ient than a pocket book ; and in leaving cards yju must 
thus distribute them : one for the lady of the house and 
her daughters — the latter are sometimes represented by 
turning up the edge of the card— one for the master of 
the house and if there be a grown up son or near male re- 
lation staying in the house, one for him. But though 
2ards are cheap, you must never leave more than three ai 
a time at the same house. As married men have, or are 
supposed to have, too much to do to make ceremonial calls, 
it is the custom for a wife to take her husband's cards with 
her, and to leave one or two of them with her own. If, 
on your inquiring for the lady of the 'house, the servant 
replies, " Mrs. So-and-so is not at home, but Miss So-and- 
so is," you should leave a card, because young ladies do 
not receive calls from gentlemen, unless they are very in- 
timate with them, or have passed the rubicon of thirty 
summers. It must be remembered, too. that where there 
is a lady of the house, your call is to her, not to her hus- 
band, except on business. 

The Roman Assembly used to break up if thunder was 
heard, and in days of yore a family assembly was often 
broken up very hurriedly at the thunder of the knocker, 
one or other of the daughters exclaiming, " I am not 
dressed, mamma !" and darting from the loom ; but ladies 
ought to be dressed sufficiently to receive visitors in the 
afternoon. As nerves have grown more delicate of late 
years, it is perhaps a blessing that knockers have been 
superseded by bells. Where they remain, however, you 
should not rattle them fiercely, as a powdered Mercurj 
does, nor should you pull a bell ferociously. 

Having entered the house, you take up with you to the 
drawing-room both hat and cane 3 but leave an umbrella in 



COUNTRY- VISITING. 



387 



the hall. In France it is usual to leave a great- coat .Iowa 
stairs also, but as calls are made in this country in mora- 
ing dress, it is not necessary to do so. 

It is not usual to introduce people at morning calls in 
large towns : in the country it is sometimes done, not al* 
ways The law of introductions is, in fact, to force m 
one into an acquaintance. You should therefore •ascertain 
beforehand whether it is agreeable to both to be introduced ; 
but if a lady or a superior expresses a wish to know a gen- 
tleman or an inferior, the latter two have no right to de- 
cline the honor. The introduction is of an inferior (which 
position a gentleman always holds to a lady) to the supe- 
rior. You introduce Mr. Smith to Mrs. Jones, or Mr. A. 
to Lord B., not vice versa. In introducing two persons, 
it is not necessary to lead one of them up by the hand, bu* 
it is sufficient simply to precede them. Having thus 
brought the person to be introduced up to the one to whom 
he is to be presented, it is the custom, even when the con- 
Bent has been previously obtained, to say, with a slight bow 
to the superior personage : " Will you allow me to intro- 
duce Mr. — ?" The person addressed replies by bowing 
to the one introduced, who also bows at the same time, 
while the introducer repeats their names, and then retires, 
eaving them to converse. Thus, for instance, in present- 
ing Mr. Jones to Mrs. Smith, you will say, u Mrs. Smith, 
allow me to introduce Mr. Jones,' 7 and while they are en- 
gaged in bowing, you will murmur, "Mrs. Smith— Mr. 
Jones," and escape. If you have to present three or four 
people to said Mrs. Smith, it will suffice to utter their re- 
spective names without repeating that of the lady. 

A well-bred person always receives visitors at whatever 
time they may call, or whoever they may be: but if von 
U 



838 



VISITS, INTRODUCTIONS, ETC. 



are occupied and cannot afford to be interrupted by a mere 
ceremony, you should instruct the servant befo? ehand to 
&&y that you are 4 'not at home." This form has often 
been denounced as a falsehood, but a lie is no lie unlesa 
intended to deceive ; and since the words are universally 
understood to mean that you are engaged, it can be no 
barm to give such an order to a servant. But, on the 
other hand, if the servant once admits a visitor within the 
hall, you should receive him at any inconvenience to your 
self. A lady should never keep a visitor waiting more 
than a minute or two at the most, and if she cannot avoid 
doing so, must apologize on entering the drawing-room. 

In good society, a visitor, unless he is a complete stran- 
ger, does not wait to be invited to sit down, but takes a 
seat at once easily. A gentleman should never take the 
principal place in the room, nor, on the other hand, sit at 
an inconvenient distance from the lady of the house. He 
must hold his hat gracefully, not put it on a chair or table, 
or. if he wants to use both hands, must place it on the 
floor close to his chair. A well-bred lady, who is receiv- 
ing two or three visitors at a time, pays equal attention to 
all, and attempts, as much as possible, to generalize the 
conversation, turning to all in succession. The last arrival 
however, receives a little more attention at first than the 
others, and the latter, to spare her embarrassment, should 
leave as soon as convenient. People who out-sit two or three 
parlies of visitors, unless they have some particular motive 
foi doing so. come under the denomination of " bores/' A 
"bore" is a person who does not know when you have had 
enough of his or her company. Lastly, a lady never call3 
on a gentleman, unless professionally or officially. It is not 
only ill-bred, but positively improper to do so. At the same 



COUNTRY- VISITING. 



389 



time, there is a certain privilege in age, wnich makes it 
possible for an old bachelor like myself to receive a visit 
from any married lady whom I know very intimately, but 
such a call would certainly not be one of ceremony, an 1 
ilways presupposes a desire to consult me on some poim 
or other. I should be guilty of shameful treachery, how- 
ever, if I told any one that I had received such a visit; 
while I should certainly expect that my fair caller would 
let her husband know of it. 

A few words on visits to country houses before I quit 
this subject. Since an Englishman's house is his castle, 
no one, not even a near relation, has a right to invite him- 
self to stay in it. It is not only taking a liberty to do so, 
but may prove to be very inconvenient. A general invi- 
tation, too. should never be acted on. It is often given 
without any intention of following it up ; but, if given, 
should be turned into a special one sooner or later. An 
invitation should specify the persons whom it includes, and 
the person invited should never presume to take w T ith him 
any one not specified. If a gentleman cannot dispense 
with his valet, or a lady with her maid, they should write 
to ask leave to bring a servant ; but the means of your 
inviter, and the size of the house, should be taken into 
consideration, and it is better taste to dispense with a 
servant altogether. Children and horses are still more 
troublesome, and should never be taken without special 
mention made of them. It is equally bad taste to arrive 
with a waggonful of luggage, as that is naturally taken as 
a hint that you intend to stay a long time. The length of 
a country visit is indeed a difficult matter to decide, but in 
the present day people who receive much generally specify 
the length in their invitation — a plan which saves a great 



840 



VISITS, INTRODUCTIONS, ETC. 



deal of trouble and doubt. But a custom not so commen- 
dable has lately come in of limiting the visits of acquaint- 
ance to two or three days. This may be pardonable where 
the guest lives at no great distance, but it is preposterous 
to expect a person to travel from London to Aberdeen for 
a stay of three nights. If. however, the length be no 
specified, and cannot easily be discovered, a week is the 
limit for a country visit, except at the house of a near re- 
lation or very old friend. It will, however, save trouble 
to yourself, if, soon after your arrival, you state that ym 
are come " for a few days.'* and. if your host wishes you 
to make a longer visit, he will at once press you to do so. 

The main point in a country visit is to give as little 
trouble as possible, to conform to the habits of your en- 
tertainers, and never to be in the way. On this principle 
you will retire to your own occupations soon after break- 
fast, unless some arrangement has been made for passing 
the morning otherwise. If you have nothing to do. you 
may be sure that your host has something to attend to in 
the morning. Another point of good-breeding is to be 
punctual at meals, for a host and hostess never sit down 
without their guest, and dinner may be getting cold. If, 
however, a guest should fail in this particular, a well-bred 
entertainer will not only take no notice of it, but attempt 
to set the late comer as much at his ease as possible. A 
host should provide amusement for his guests, and give up 
his time as much as possible to them : but if he should b 
a professional man or student — an author, for instance — 
the guest should, at the commencement of the visit, insist 
that he will not allow him ^o interrupt his occupations, and 
the latter will set his visitor more at his ease by accepting 
this arrangement. In fact, the rule on which a host 



GRATUITIES TO SERVANTS. 



341 



ihould act is to make his visitors as much at home as pos- 
sible ; that on which a visitor should act, is to interfere as 
little as possible with the domestic routine of the house. 

The worst part of a country visit is the necessity of 
giving gratuities to the servants, for a poor man may often 
6nd his visit cost him far more than if he had stayed it 
home. It is a custom which ought to be put down be- 
cause a host who receives much should pay his own ser- 
vants for the extra trouble given. Some people have made 
by-laws against it in their houses, but, like those about 
gratuities to railway-porters, they are seldom regarded. 
In a great house a man-servant expects gold, but a poor 
man should not be ashamed of offering him silver. It 
must depend on the length of the visit. The ladies give 
to the female, the gentlemen to the male servants. Would 
that I might see my friends without paying them for theii 
hospitality in this indirect manner. 



PART III. 



FHE INDIVIDUAL IN CCMPANI, 



CHAPTER XI. 

DINNERS, DINERS, AND DINNER- PARTIE3. 

M Board !" cried a friend of mine one morning after a 
heavy dinner-party ; " It ought to be spelt 1 bored.' Never 
was a more solemn torture created for mankind than these 
odious dinner-parties. Call it society ! so you might call 
the Inquisition ; and I really have my doubts whether I 
should not be as happy between a couple of jailers, insert- 
ing another and another wedge into the terrible boot, as 
between that garrulous old woman, who never waited foi 
an answer, and that nervous young lady who never gave 
one, with a huge epergne between me and the rest of my 
fellow-creatures, an occasional glimpse of an irritable, 
solemn host at one end, and a most anxious hostess at the 
other. Upon my word, two whole hours of this, with the 
most labored attempts at conversation all round, in a dark 
room with a servant perpetually thrusting something across 
my shoulder, exciting each time a fresh alarm of a shower 
of sauce or gravy ; stupidity worked up to silliness by bad 

(342) 



THE MORALITY OF DINNER-PARTIES. 343 



champagne and worse port, and, when every one is wearied 
to death a white-mouse ditty from the shy young lady 
and another hour and a half cf that frantically garrulou3 
old one — really is this society ?" 

? Perhaps not ; but that is no reason why a dinner-party, 
properly selected and properly served, should not be as 
pleasant a meeting as any other. Indeed in England it 
ought to be pleasanter. The English are not famous for 
conversation ; but it has been proved, that if you want 
them to talk, you must put something substantial into their 
mouths. One thing is certain, namely, that a dinner-party 
x3 the main institution of society in this country, and one 
which every class and every denomination recognizes and 
permits. Many people denounce balls as wicked, and con- 
sider evening parties frivolous, but none see any harm in 
being well fed, and made to drink a certain or uncertain 
quantity of w r ine. It certainly has often surprised me, 
that at the very time w T hen we are appealing to men of 
all positions and all fortunes for subscriptions to relieve 
the destitute poor — when starving brethren are crawling 
in their filthy rags along the crowded pavement — when the 
homeless are crouching on our door-steps, and perishing of 
hunger but a few streets off, the noble philanthropist who 
presides at a meeting foi their relief, and the bishop who 
calls for charity for them from the pulpit, should see no 
harm in encouraging, by their presence, the prodigality 
and Sybarite luxury of professional dinner-givers (f r 
they make it almost a profession). It is certainly strange, 
that while Scripture is ransacked for texts inculcating 
almsgiving and the duty of feeding the hungry, those 
words of Solomon, which denounce the man who gives to 
\he rich, should be so completely overlooked. It is re 



3U DINNERS, DINERS AJTD DINNER-PARTIES. 

markable, that the man who can with difficulty be brougLl 
to give a ten-pound note to keep a hundred souls alive, 
should, of his own free-will, spend twice the sum once a 
week in feasting with dainties some dozen of his fellow- 
features, who can scarcely get up the requisite amount 
of appetite to enjoy them. But, after all, it is not so 
stiange, for men are selfish, and the good- will of a few 
rich is more highly prized than the gratitude of many 
poor. 

But let this pass, and let us console ourselves by the 
reflection that common sense, if no higher feeling, will in 
time simplify our social banquets ; and that charity, some 
fifty years hence, will see no harm, as it now would, ir 
calling in the blind, the halt, and the needy, to partake 
of the dishes we now spread only for the rich, the fash- 
ionable, and the appetiteless. One rule, however, we may 
gain at once from these considerations, that only the 
wealthy should be dinner-givers, and the man who cannot 
"afford'' £5 for the starving, should on no account af- 
ford £20 for the well fed. 

A dinner, like a pun, should never be made public un- 
less it be very good, but at the same time modern im- 
provements enable it to be that without being a, so very 
expensive. The goodness of a dinner does not consist in 
the rarity and costliness of the viands, but in the manner 
in which they are cooked and served, in the various con- 
comitants which contribute to give it brilliance and elev 
gance, and yet more in the guests who eat it. 

This last point is, in fact, the most important, so that 
the invitation is only a second consideration to the dinner 
itself. The rules for invitations, and some hints whom 
to invite are given in the next chapter by my colleague 



WHOM TO INVITE. 



345 



i need give but a few hints of my own. Peojle lyho have 
a large acquaintance and give dinners, should keep a 
book in which to write the names of those who compose 
each party, which prevents the mistake of asking the same 
person twice, and of bringing precisely the same people 
together again when their turn comes round. There are 
indeed some privileged persons like myself, agreeable old 
bachelors, who, being free from encumbrance and full ol 
talk, are always welcome and generally wanted. In fact, 
such men run a risk of being known as professional diners 
out, like the convivce of Rome, so that it is a greatei 
charity not to invite them too often. And this reminds 
ine that you should not ask a man without his wife, 
though you may leave his sons and daughters out of the 
calculation. Then, again, the very ancient had better be 
left to dine at home, unless, like Lady Morgan, they 
preserve their conversational powers. The invitation must 
be answered as soon as possible, and the answer addressed 
to the lady of the house. 

But the question whom to invite, is one which cannot 
be so easily answered. First, there are some people 
whom you must invite sooner or later, namely, those at 
whose houses you have dined ; because you may neglect 
every Christian duty, and be less blamed than if you omit 
this social one. This is certainly absurd, and society be- 
comes almost low when dinner-parties take the semblance 
of a tacit contract, in which the one party undertakes to 
feed the other to-day, if the other will feed him in return 
before the end of the season. Yet I have known people 
not at all ashamed to complain that they have not been 
*3ked to jinner, and not blush to say. " They oica us a 
linner, you know." Somehow, then, you must manage 
15* 



346 DINNERS, DINBBSj ANIj DINNER-PARX.BS 



to acquit yourself of these dinner debts before the season 
is over. Society condemns you severely if you do not 
pay your debts of hospitality. Of course this applies 
only to people who are known to be in the habit of giving 
dinners. Those who from one cause or another do ncl J; 
so are still invited, though not so often. 

But when you have done your duty religiously in this 
respect, you have the world before you. Where to 
choose ? Xow. after taking into due consideration the 
congruities and sympathies of those you may select, the 
chief point is to invite men and women — an equal number 
of each of course — who can talk. By this I do not meao 
your rapid utterers of small-talk, who can coin more 
pretty nonsense in half an hour than a modern novelist in 
three months, but men. who having gone through the 
world, and tamed their Pegasus with the curb of experi- 
ence, not being bound. Mazeppa-like. on the back of some 
wretched hobby, can gallop smoothly over the themes 
that life and the newspapers supply to wit : men who 
view life calmly from the height to which they have 
limbed, without prejudice and without awe ; and women 
who are capable of understanding and answering such men 
as these. But you must carefully avoid the eater, b} 
which I mean both the gourmand and the goiirmet. both 
the aldermar. whose motto is quantity, and the epicure 
who cries for quality. Of what good is it to pander to 
the greediness of a vile being, whose soul lies in tin 
itomach, as the Greeks affirmed that it always did, and 
whose mind and thoughts are much in the same region 
If such men can talk at all. it is only of eating, and ii 
you do not feed them with the especial dainties they look 
for, their gratitude shows itself in sneers at your hospi* 



WHOM TO INVITE. 



311 



fcality when they next dine out. Wits, again, and men 
who think themselves to be so, should never be askec 
singly, for they will engross the conversation, and silence 
the rest. When asked in numbers, they keep one anothei 
in thin limits. 

The number of the guests is a difficulty. People find 
that it is more economical to give large than small din- 
ners, and will therefore continue to go on in solemn gran- 
deur. But the best dinners are those at which all t 
guests can join in a common conversation, to which tii, 
host being within hearing of all his party can give th* 
proper lead. Such dinners alone can be agreeable to all, 
because no one is dependent on the liveliness of his or her 
nearest neighbor for conversation. As it is, too many ai 
dinner is nothing better than an eating quadrille, where 
each person has a partner and is at his mercy ; only that 
the dance lasts not an eighth of the time which the leashed 
diner is compelled to pass in company with his partner. 
Brillat Savarin says, that no dinner should have more 
than twelve guests, and the old rule was, u neither less 
than the graces, nor more than the muses;" but London 
dinners oftener exceed these limits than the reverse, while 
country dinners mount up to twenty. Indeed, with some 
senseless people, the eclat of the dinner seems to consist 
in the number of the guests, and the more you can feed 
the more your glory. I am inclined to think that the 
jld rule is the best ; but as it was made for tables at 
which ladies never appeared, some alteration must be 
made in it, and we may say generally, that an even num- 
ber is better than an odd one, and that it should be either 
six, eight, or ten. The first of course is reserved for 
your dinners of honor, when the men you admire and th« 



M8 DINNERS, DINERS. AOT DINNER-PARTIES. 



women you love — (two of each, for no man can find more 
than that number in the world) — dine with you and youi 
fife ; the second is jour sociable dinner, at which all the 
guests are more or less known to one another ; and the 
fliird is your company dinner. If you exceed these num- 
bers, you may do what you will to make your dinner 
perfect, your guests will spoil it all by falling into coup- 
les and eating in quadrille. 

But there is another reason for limiting the number, 
namely, that to give a good dinner, your means, your es- 
tablishment, your dining-room, the capacities of the table, 
and so forth, must all be taken into consideration. But 
if the dinner is given to fourteen, sixteen, or even eigh- 
teen as is now common in large towns, you mast either 
increase your establishment and your expense not a little, 
jr be content, as people are. to give them the regular 

feed," in which everybody knows beforehand what they 
will have. One cook, for instance, cannot serve uj) pro- 
perly for more than a dozen people ; three men cannot 
wait properly on more than ten : and a table which will 
hold more than that number will be so large as to sepa- 
rate the opposite guests too far for easy and general con- 
versation. Lastly, if your means enable you to dine a 
hundred or a thousand every week, you would be a mad- 
man to do so : you might as well give your dinner to two 
«orily. for what of that essential harmony, that communion 
rf mind and spirit. "the feast of reason and the flow of 
Krai," can there possibly be between a hundred, nay, even 
seventy people, some of them so far from one another that 
they could scarcely be heard without a speaking-trumpet? 

Having well selected your guests, you consider in what 
room to dine them, for the regulai dining-room is not 



THE DINING-ROOM. 



always the most comfortable. If the party be small — sia 
or eight — a large dining-room will look very ghastly, and 
it should be borne in mind that dinner-givers of good 
taste study comfort more than grandeur, Allien latter m 
simply vulgar whether in the house of a duke or a haber- 
dasher. The furniture of our dining rooms is certainly 
imj roving a little. Nothing could be more chilling tc 
the mind and appetite alike than the stone -colored walls, 
displaying the usual magnificent oil-paintings of an un- 
known school, the bust of the master of the feast at one 
end looking almost less solemn than the original under it. 
the huge table with its cumbrous silver adornments, the 
stiff side -board and the stiffer chairs. Whether it was a 
Puritanical attempt at simplicity which insisted that if we 
would have a good dinner we should mortify the flesh 
with bad concomitants, or whether it was a foolish fancy 
that a dining-room should be cold, though the dinnei 
were hot, I cannot say ; but I feel that the man who 
makes dining a study — and he who gives dinners should 
in charity do so — must go farther in the improvements of 
the room than we yet have. Light and an air of comfort 
are the main essentials. The temperature must not, even 
in summer, be too low, for sitting at dinner produces a 
chill in itself. Thirteen to sixteen degrees of Reaumur 
are fixed for it by the author of the Physiol ogie du gout ; 
but whatever the exact temperature, it must be obtained 
before dinner by lighting the fire some hours previously, 
and allowing it to burn rather low until near the end of 
the meal, when it must be replenished. There are very 
few days in an English summer when \ small fire nftet 
dinner is not acceptable. Iu very cold weather, when a 
large one is necessary, it is not easy to manage so that 



850 DINNERS, DINERS AND LINNEIt- PARTUS. 

one-half of the guests shall not have their backs roasted 
and the other not be frozen, but there are two ways of 
preventing it — the one by a large glass screen before tlie 
fire ; the other by a table in the shape of a horse-shot 
or of a segment of a circle, of which the fihord will be 
towards the fire. A dinner-giver will then have his roui. 1 
or oval table so made as to be divisible into two separate 
ones. 

The shape of the table is, in fact, a more essential point 
than some people think. In order that a dinner may be a 
social meeting, not a mere collection of tetes- ^-tites, as 
it used to be till recently, and still is sometimes, the table 
must be of a shape which will not make conversation dif- 
ficult between any two or more of the guests. The old 
parallelogram, with the stately host at the end and the 
radiant but anxious lady at the other, was fatal to con- 
versation. It was too broad, toe long, too stiff — the cor- 
ners cut off the lord and lady of the feast from their hon- 
ored guests, and necessitated leaning across ; while if 
Monsieur wished to make a remark to Madame, he had. 
independently of the joints, epergne, and candelabra, a 
length of table to impede him which compelled him to 
raise his voice most unmusically. It caused a complete 
divorce, in fact and Sir Cresswell Cresswell could not 
more effectually sever man and wife than that ancient 
" board" — for such it literally was in shape — used to do. 
The modern table is oval. Some people dine at round 
tables, like Arthur and his knights, but these if large 
enough for a party, will have a diameter every way toe 
long to allow any two opposite guests to converse. The 
horse-shoe table is suited only for a small party, and the 
base should not be occupied. As for the lwig "planka, 5 



THE SHAPE OF THE T^BLE. 



851 



which served us for tables at college, and still dc bo at 
public dinners, they have the advantage over the mahog- 
any of the dinning-room, of allowing a guest five persons 
to talk to instead of one, but they make elegance almost 
impossible. A lozenge-shaped table, with the points 
rounded off, sounds Epicurean, but it leaves open thq 
question — where are the host and hostess tc sit? At 
the oval table I need scarcely say they sit in the middle 
of each side, opposite to one another. 

The dining-room must be, of course, carpeted even in 
the heat of summer, to deaden the noise of the servants' 
feet. The chairs should be easy, with tall slanting backs, 
but without arms. As they should not be much higher 
than drawing-room chairs, the table must be lowered in 
proportion. Each person should be provided with a foot- 
stool. 

Light is positively necessary to digestion, and no party 
can be cheerful without it. It is difficult to have too 
much light, but profusion is less desirable than arrange- 
ment, w r hile a mere glare becomes painful. Gas and 
candles should both be avoided on that and other ac- 
counts, and the best media for lighting are carcelle, or 
moderator-lamps, covered with open pink muslin, or tar- 
latane, which, without diminishing, softens the light. The 
principal object is to throw as much of it as possible on 
the table, with sufficient on the faces of the guests. Light- 
ing from the walls is apt to throw the latter into shade, 
and a chandelier in the middle must be hung very low tc 
do justice to the former. Lamps on the table itself are 
simply unpardonable, and must on no account be admit- 
ted. The best plan is to have four chandeliers, contain- 
ing each one large lamp, and hung over tin places where 



852 DINNERS, DINERS. AND DINNER-PARTIES. 

the four corners of the table would come if it were a par 
allelograni instead of an oval. The rest of the room, how- 
ever, must not be left in darkness, and lamps may be 
placed on the side-board and side-tables. The latter must 
be very neat, and both should be ornamented richly with 
Dowers rather than with that pompous display of plate 
which is too commonly seen. 

A few words about servants before we come to the table 
itself. Women wait more quietly and quite as actively 
as men. but a butler, who can carve well and rapidly, is 
indispensable. If, however, you have men-servants, they 
should not be too many. A party of ten can be perfectly 
well served by two men and a butler, and, if there are 
more than these, they only get in the way of one another, 
or stand pompously by staring while you eat. Your ser- 
vants should be well trained and instructed, and should 
obey every order riven by the butler. A master or mis- 
tress should never speak to them at dinner, and they must 
be themselves as silent as Sappists. They should wear 
light shoes that cannot creak and if they have a napkin 
instead of gloves, you must see that their hands are per- 
fectly clean. They should have their " beats" like po- 
licemen, one beginning at the guest on his master's right 
and ending with the lady of the house, the other with the 
cruest on his mistress's right ending with the mas^ )r. 

The table, on which all eyes are turned, is ;he next 
point. Great changes have taken place in the last ten or 
fifteen years in its arrangements, and as the Russian plan 
is now adopted in the best houses, and is, at the same time, 
the most elegant, I shall not stop to speak of any other. 
The main point is to secure beauty without interfering 
with conversation. Given, therefore, a table-cover, and a 



ARRANGEMENT OF THE TABLE. 353 

white aamask table-cloth over it, what arc we to f lace 
thereon? First, nothing high enough to ccme between 
the heads of any two of the party, and therefore must 
epergnes, lamps, and so forth, be eschewed as nuisances. 
I Next, that which is pleasant and agreeable to the eye, and 
something that it can dwell upon with pleasure. A com- 
mon object for the centre is desirable, and this should be 
some work of art, of Parian or china, not too high nor 
too large, and on each side towards the thin ends of the 
oval should be bowls of biscuit-ware or china, filled with 
flowers; or, to be elegant, you may have two little table-foun- 
tains, provided their basins are low. The rest of the table 
must be covered with dessert. By this arrangement plate 
becomes a secondary matter, and indeed a display of mas- 
sive silver is rather chilling, and always looks ostentatious 
In addition to the flowers mentioned, the French often 
place a bouquet on the napkin of each lady, and the at- 
tention is certainly a pretty one. The place for each guest 
should be roomy, but not too far from his neighbors. The 
dinner-service of the present day may be reduced to plates 
alone, since everything else is served at the side-table. I 
am inclined to think that pure white china with a gilt edge, 
and the best of its kind, is the fittest service to dine off, 
but this is a matter of taste only. At any rate, the dessert- 
service should be handsome. Bachelors at dinner have a 
great advantage in having their light wine placed by th( ii 
glasses in black bottles, but in other dinners the wine is 
handed. It will, however, be well on all occasions to have 
sufficient glasses for all the wines to be drunk placed oil 
tht right hand of each plate, and the same may be said of 
knives, spoons, and forks. The napkins may be folded 
according to fancy. Sometimes they are placed on tho 




554 DINNERS, DINERS, AND DINNER- PAR1IES. 

plate with a roll of bread inside, and sometimes arranged 
in a fan-shape in the champagne-glasses. For my own 
part, I prefer to think that no hands have been soiling 
mine before I use it, and perhaps the most elegant wa y is 
to lay them on the table or plate just as they come frcj: 
the washerwoman's. 

No dish but those of dessert is placed on the table. 1 
have spoken of this, in the chapter on accomplishments, 
under the head of carving, and shall not again discuss the 
question. It suffices to say that where " Ton sait diner" 
no dish is either carved or helped at table. But I am now 
going to recommend the revival of an ancient practice 
which is now gone out. It is that each plate should be 
• filled with soup and put in its place at table, at the very 
moment that the guests are coming into the room. The 
object of this is to enable every one to begin dinner at the 
same moment. The hungry do not talk well, and the 
warm soup at once revives the spirits and slakes the ap- 
petite. It is hard on a man to expect him to begin con- 
versation while the ladies are sipping their soup and he is 
waiting for it. Harmony and union are the essentials of 
dinner, and where it can be so simply obtained, it is foolish 
to neglect it. Yet I have little hope that this practice 
will be adopted, because Engliah people seem to think 
more of the pomposity than the comfort of their dinner 
and the butler and men are required to stand and loot 
grand as the guests pass in. I may here observe that the 
object of soup being to "take the chill off" the appetite 
and prepare the inner man for the reception of solids, a 
• light soup is better than a thick one, which clogs the ap 
petite ; turtle is only fit for an alderman and your souf 
may therefore be inexpensive. 



win* 



855 



After the soup the wine. Modern Englishmen have so 
far improved upon their ancestors, that they nc longer 
meet to drink but to dine, and the amount of the wine is 
therefore jrf far less importance than its quality. The 
order of the wines, reversing that of the solids, is from 
the lightest to the strongest. The author of the Art oj 
Dinhig tells us, that " sherry, champagne, port, and 
claret" are indispensable to the dinner-table. I should be 
inclined to knock off two of these, champagne and port, and 
put in a light Rhenish in their place. Port has become al- 
most an impossibility, for age is a sine qu i non of this wine, 
and unless you have long had a good cellar, you have very 
little chance of obtaining it good. In fact, though still 
placed on the table, the use of it seem to be restricted to 
a few old gentlemen, who cannot give up their customary 
drink. George the Fourth declared for sherry, and I 
cannot help thinking he was right. At any rate, bad port 
is less drinkable than bad sherry, and as you will too 
often have only this choice of evils, I beg to hint how the 
alternative may be most prudently taken. Champagne, 
again, should be very good to be enjoyable, and it is also 
becoming more and more difficult to procure. Both port 
and champagne are doctored for every European market, 
and a friend of mine visiting a famous wine-grower at 
Epernay, tasted from the same cask no less than five dif- 
ferent wines, all manufactured in a few hours out of the 
the same original juice. I suspect thru even an English 
wine-merchant can produce as many different " vintages'' 
&om the same stuff, as M. Houdin does wines from the 
Borne bottle. 

The mingling of water with wine is said to have been 
discovered by an accident. A party of old Greeks, not 



356 DINNER*, DINERS, AND DINNER- PARI IBS. 



famous for sobriety, had been drinking on the sea-shoxe. 
when a storm arose, and in rapid haste they retreated to a 
cave to take shelter. Probably tljey were not in a fit condi- 
tion for carrying their goblets with them steadily At any 
rate they left them on the shore, and when the storm wag 
o\er, found their wine converted by the rain into wine and 
water. The allegation that the mixture spoils two good 
things, as two good people are sometimes spoiled by marriage, 
is one which a tippler will support more zealously than an 
epicure. Mr. Walker, in the " Original," recommends 
even port and water ; but however this may be. some Bor- 
deaux wines gain, rather than lose, by the mixture, and you 
may thus have, to accompany your eating, a cooling drink 
which will not destroy your taste for the good wines to 
follow it. A sensible man avoids variety in drinking. 
One French wine during dinner, and sherry after it, or a 
German wine for the meal, and claret for dessert, will 
leave you much happier than mingling sherry, champagne, 
claret, and port. Great care should be used in decanting 
wine, so as not to shake or cork it. Claret appears in a 
glass jug. but rare French wines, particularly Bourgogne 
and the Vins du Midi, should be brought up and placed 
on the table in their baskets, as decanting spoils them. 
Although the guest should avoid variety, the host must 
provide it in order to meet the tastes of all, and his ser- 
vants should be taught to pronounce properly the names 
of the different foreign wines, which are often so indistinct 
hat we are led into taking a white one when we wanted 
Ted, or a French one when we expected Rhenish. 

The bacnelor has the great privilege of drinking beer 
at dinner if he likes it, I cannot conceive how so good and 
harmless an accompaniment of eating came to be excluded 



FISH. 



367 



from the well -served table, unless from a vulgar fancy that 
what is not expensive should not be set before a guest, 
however good it may be. How happy people with these 
notions would be in Ceylon, where Bass costs nearly a shil- 
ling a glass. This reminds me of a story of some vulgar 
man whose name I have forgotten, and do not care to re- 
member. His host simply enough said to his guest, " This 
wine cost me six shillings a bottle." " Did it ?" cried the 
other, :, then pass it round, and let's have another six 
penn'orth." The connoisseur of beer rightly judges that 
it is spoiled by bottling ; draught beer is also the more 
wholesome. A glass of old port is generally substituted 
for the beer with cheese, but the drink with the German 
student, an ardent lover of it, tells you was discovered by 

" Gabrantius Konig Yon Brabant 
Der zuerst das Bier erfand," 

is its more natural accompaniment. 

If there were no other advantage in the Russian sys- 
tem, as it is called, it would be worth adopting, only be- 
cause it enables the dinner-giver to offer more variety, 
instead of forcing him to sacrifice taste to the appearance 
of his dishes. Thus the turbot and the cod were once 
becoming standing dishes at all English dinners, and 
small fish were banished because they did not put in a 
majestic appearance. Yet there are many better fish 
than cod and turbot, and there are many ways of dressing 
[kh which may not be so agreeable to the eye as to the 
palate. Then, again, how exquisite is the flavor of s^me 
fresh-water fish / and of several kinds of shell-fish, which 
we so seldom see at great dinners ! How much better the 
Fariety of trout perch in soiichet, fried gudgeons, even 



358 



DINNERS, DINERS, AND DINNER-PARTIES 



eels, loussels, and lampreys (both of which must be fnxl 
erately indulged in. the one producing very often a rush 
on the fac-3, which is cured by large quantities of fresh 
inilk. and the other being notorious as a regicide, which 
those who read the commonest history of England wiH 
renumber), than that perpetual turbot. In fact, no kind* 
of eating can be more varied than that of fish ; yet, by 
sticking to antique traditions, we deprive ourselves of the 
enjoyment of all the wealth of sea and stream. There 
are scores of ways of dressing them all too, which you can 
learn in any good cookery-book, and almost any fish can 
be made not only eatable but delicious by clever cooking. 
But vulgarity has driven many a good but cheap eatable 
from the table of the rich ; and the Duke of Rutland was 
quite right to give Poodle Byng his conge 3 when one of 
these despised delicacies appeared at the Duke's table, 
and Poodle exclaimed, " Ah ! my old friend haddock ! I 
have not seen a haddock on a gentleman's table since I 
was a boy.*' Oysters, though eaten at dinner in France, 
are properly excluded from table in England, as being 
much too heating, and carp is very indigestible ; but 
there are the Devonshire John Dory, a far better fish 
than turbot, red mullets, salmon-trout, whitings, smelt, 
mackerel, sturgeon, the favorite of the Emperor of China, 
and even sprats and herrings, to form a variety besides 
those mentioned before. 

But our chief thanks to the new system are due for it j 
ostracizing that unwieldy barbarism — the joint. Nothing 
can make a joint look elegant, while it hides the master of 
(he house, and condemns him to the misery of carving. I 
vras much amused at the observations of a writer on the 
gubject of dinners, who objected to flowers on the table? 



THE ORDER OF DINNER. 



1 because we don't eat flowers, and everything that is on 
the table ought to be eatable." At this rate the cook 
would have to dish up the epergnes and caadelabra. But 
the truth is, that unless our appetites are very keen, tha 
sight of much meat reeking in its gravy is sufficient U 
destroy them entirely, and a huge joint especially is cal t 
culated to disgust the epicure. If joints are eaten at all, 
they should be placed on the side-table, where they will 
be out of sight. 

Vegetables should properly be served separately on a 
clean plate after the roast, but when served with it, a 
guest should be satisfied with at most two kinds at a time, 
nothing showing w^orse taste than to load your plate. 
Asparagus, pease, artichokes, haricots, vegetable marrows, 
and spinach ought, if not a component part of a made 
dish, to be served separately. There are many ways of 
dressing potatoes and carrots, which last are a vegetable 
much neglected at English tables, but w T hen quite young, 
and dressed with butter in the French fashion, a delicious 
eatable, and a preventive of jaundice, which should rec- 
ommend them strongly to professional diners-out. 

But I am not a cook, and cannot go through cverj 
course with you. It must suffice to say, that the dishes 
should not be too many, and that good cooking and 
management make a better dinner than either profusion 
or expenditure, or delicacies out of season. The main 
points are originality and rarity, and to have the best cf 
everything, or not have it at all. Perhaps the strangest 
dinner I ever ate was in tete-d-tete with a bachelor 01 
small appetite. There were but two courses. To the 
first we stood up, opening our own oysters, and devouring 
them till we could eat no more The second courso, to 



860 DINNERS. DINERS, AND DINNER- PARTIES. 



which we sat down, consisted of a dozen marrow-bon< a 
of which we each discussed six. They were as hot as 
they could be, and excellent. A variety of vegetables 
completed this light repast, and though I could havs 
dinod more largely, I was bcund to confess that my friend 
had given me a dinner which I should scarcely have got 
elsewhere. Lest you should be tempted to offer a similai 
repast to a large party, I must warn you that the marrow- * 
bone is not considered a presentable dish, and that the 
marrow must be extracted by a special kind of spoon, of 
which a clean one is required for every bone. 

Brillat Savarin says, that the order of the solids should 
be from the heaviest to the lightest. This is not strictly 
observed either in France or England, and it may be use- 
ful to know what is the order generally adopted in thia 
country. It is as follows : — 

1. Soup. 

2. Fish. 

3. Patties (of oysters, lobsters, shrimps, or minced 
veal ) 

4. Made dishes, or entrees, which include poultry. 

5. The roast, or piece de resistance. 

6. Vegetables. 

7. The game. 

8. Pastry, puddings, omelettes. 

9. The ice. 
10. The dessert 

The salad ought to have, but seldom has a place in thi? 
list, namely / after the ice, and with cheese. When made 
&a a mayonnaise, that is with chicken, cold fish or shell- 
fish, it comes in as a made-dish. But a pure salad, well 
dressed is "a dish to set before a king." and that you 



SALADS. 



S61 



mny be able to dress it yourself, ai.d we may finish oui 

dinner with cheerfulness, I give you Sydney Smith's r*- 

seipt to learn by heart, — 

** Two large potatoes, passed through kitchen sieve, 
Unwonted softness to the salad give. 
Of mordent mustard, add a single spoon ; 
Distrust the condiment which bites too soon : 
But deem it not, thou man of herbs, a fault 
To add a double quantity of salt. 
Three times the spoon with oil of Lucca crown, 
And once with vinegar procured from town ; 
True flavor needs it, and your poet begs 
The pounded yellow of two well-boil' d eggs. 
Let onion atoms lurk within the bowl, 
And, scarce suspected, animate the whole ; 
And lastly, on the favor'd compound toss 
A magic spoonful of anchovy sauce. 
Then, though green turtle fail, though venisoi/d tougfe, 
And ham and turkey are not boil'd enough, 
Serenely full, the epicure may say — 
Fate cannot harm me — I have dined to-day ! " 

Well, dinner is done, but not the diners. There re- 
mains on the table what is a whole dinner in Italy, and 
what is dinner enough for a poet — fruit and wine. Talk- 
ing of poets, though, reminds me that their chameleon 
exsistence is only a poetic license. Byron, w T ho dined off 
potatoes and vinegar in public, generally rewarded him- 
self in private with an unspiritual beef-steak, and " cut 
from the joint and the poets of " olden time." by which 
I mean the days of eating in Athens and Rome, were 
ftiao the paraistes of the feast, and for a stave or two. 
gladly accepted a steak or two, just as some later poets 
have dined with my Lord to-day, on the tacit understand- 
ing that they should write him a dedication to-morrow 

Tn fact, Grub street w r as not inappropriately named, if 
16 



362 UxiNNERS, DINERS. AND DINNER-PARTIES. 



slang be English ; and most of our own poets, — Moor* 
and Rogers, e. g., — have been careful diners. But, then, 
the legend which made Minerva spring from the head of 
Jupiter, has long been proved a good-natured mistake, 
lestmed to encourage " our minion lyricists," and there 
is now no doubt that the muse of song and literature had 
as large a corporation as any other of the nine. "Wha 
else is the meaning of " writing for bread ?" 

But stop. I had nearly forgotten Grace. Well, that ia 
nothing very extraordinary, for the thanksgiving is posi- 
tively the last thing thought of by the diner, and when it 
is remembered, it is too often reduced to a mere formality. 
What ridiculous mockeries are the long Latin graces 
through which we had to stand at college, and the chanted 
graces at public dinners ! If a man be really thankful to 
God for what he gives him, a few thoughts, not words, 
best express it ; but if words be necessary, let them be 
short and solemn, that each one's heart may echo them. 
Dr. Johnson was well reproved in his formal religion, 
when his wife told him it was of no use to ask his Maker 
to make him truly thankful, when the next moment he 
would sit down and abuse every dish on the table; ani 
what was said to Johnson may be said to many a pamper- 
ed diner-out, and to many a grumbling father of a family : 
" Better a dry morsel where love is, than a stalled ox, 
and' 5 — let me adapt it to the present day — " grumbling 
therewith." How often does a man say the words of hia 
grace, and soon after find fault with the dinner, ungrate- 
ful alike to his host and his Maker. But, as far as 
etiquette goes, there is only this to be said, — that the 
audible grace is spoken by the master of the feast, or if 
e clergyman be present, by him. So in India, a Br^h- 



DUTIES OF HOST AND GUEST. 



363 



min was always invited to bless the banquet, and give it 
the sanction of his presence. 

The etiquettes of dinner are not V3ry numerous. We 
have already spoken in Chapter vn. of the manners pro- 
per at the dinner table. We have now to consider a few 
duties of host and guest. 

Punctuality may be the soul of business, but it is also 
that of knife-and-fork play. Everybody must be punc- 
tual at the great event of the day. " Dinner," said a 
French cook, " is the hope of the hungry, the occupatior 
of the idle, the rest of the weary, and the consolation of 
the miserable !" Can any one be guilty of delaying such 
a moment ? The Romans complained that before the sun- 
dial was discovered, one dined when hunger ordered, but 
afterwards hunger had to wait for time. In our modem 
dining rooms, we have little fear that hunger will annoy 
any one, but sometimes a delay may occur which may 
make hunger a very intimate acquaintance. Thus, Cam- 
bacer s, one of the best dinner-givers of his day, once 
kept his guests waiting three hours, while he was engaged 
on state business ; and Walpole relates how he once had 
to wait nearly four hours for dinner at Northumberland 
House, because the Lords were reading the Poor Bill. 
The guests sat down at last without the Peers, but had 
not done when the legislators tumbled in and had the 
whole dinner served up again. This dinner had been 
fixed for the then fashionable hour of five, and did not 
finish till eleven. However, this was more excusable than 
the case of a late nobleman, who was seen mounting bis 
horse for his afternoon ride, just as his guests assembled 
in the drawing-room 



364 DINNERS, DINERS. AND DINNER- PARTIES. 



2>ext to the host and hostess, the cook ought tc hi 
punctual. But the guest's arrival is more important still ; 
and the guest has no excuse, because from the merest 
selfishness, or want of consideration, he may put a whole 
party to inconvenience. The invited having arrived, tha 
lady receives them in the drawing-room, and the convol- 
ution is necessarily more or less formal, for everybody ia 
waiting for the event. At last a servant announces that 
dinner is ready. It is then the' part of the host to pair 
off the guests. He himself takes down the lady of the 
highest rank, or the greatest stranger. Distinctions of 
rank are going out in good society, although precedence 
exists just as a herald's office does ; but it may generally be 
said that age has the real precedence, and a lady of ad- 
vanced years should not be put behind any one of rank 
ander royal blood. The most intimate with the family take 
the lowest, the least so. the highest place. At dinner, 
the gentleman sits to the right of the lady, so that the 
arrangment is easily made. In France there is no pro- 
cession of this kind, and the awkwardness of precedence is 
thus avoided. There, all the guests enter pell-mell, and 
find their names written on papers placed on their nap- 
kins. Besides these papers a bill of fare is placed on 
each plate, when the dinner is really good, and the din- 
ner-giver an epicure. 

It is the duty of the host to lead the conversation as 
Diuch as possible, and it is still more his duty to make it 
general. As, however, this art is little understood by 
Englishmen, a man will generally have to talk inore cf 
less to the lady on his left. He must take care not tc 
neglect her fur the one on his right, however charming the 



PINNER ETIQUETTE. 



latter may be. The dinner over, and the servants dis- 
missed, the ladies sit for a short time at dessert and theu 
retire ; the youngest man in the room rises to open the 
door for them, and all the rest rise and stand by their 
chairs. Then com<*s the "drawing-round," and the con } 
versation grows lighter and easier. But young men an i! 
old should beware of making it too light, or of running 
as our barristers often do, into stories that are unfit for 
ladies' ears. 

A true gentleman will be the same in ladies' society as 
he is out of it. A young man should not linger over his 
wine, and he may rise and leave the dining-room before 
che others go. But it remains with the host to offer to 
u join the ladies," which he should do whenever he sees 
any one growing warm over his port and talking too free- 
ly. Coffee and tea are both served up stairs, and both 
should be hot. Coffee is drunk without milk, and with 
sugar ; tea, by those who know how to enjoy it, without 
either ; but they are the rarcB aves of society, men who 
know what is good and enjoy it quietly. A little green 
tea is necessary after wine, for it awakens and excites. 
No man should drink enough wine to make him feel too 
easy with the ladies. If he has done so without feeling 
its effects, he had better go home before he goes up to the 
drawing-room. In France the gentlemen come away with 
the ladies, and there is no wine-drinking. In England 
he custom is dwindling down to a mere form, and the 
shorter you remain after the departure of the ladies the 
better. But remember, that many meats require as much 
us four hours to digest, and that the best aid to digestion 
is lively, easy conversation. A dinner party breaks uj 



BC6 DINNERS, DINERS, AND DUO* "SB-PART I E 3. 



at about eleven. There should be o little music m :ha 
evening ; but it is a great mistake to have a regular even- 
ing party after a dinner At eleven you go home, and 
having had a vralk. put on your white neck- tie for the 
aex\ event of the evening, which is d'v^^d in the tbir 
^stb chapter. 



CHAPTER XD. 

LADIES AT A DINK SR. 

Wi haTe next to consider a lady in the all-importaaS 
character of a hostess at a dinner party. 

Her first duty in this capacity is to send out her invi- 
tations in due time and proper form. V> T ith regard to the 
time, it is necessary, during the height of the London 
seas'/a, to send an invitation three weeks before the din- 
neir party ;abut, in the quiet season of the year, or in the 
country it is neither essential to do so, nor usual. The 
best plan for persons who give many dinner parties, is to 
have a plate with their names and invitations printed 
thu3 : — 

Mr. and Mrs. 

Request the favor of 

Mr. and Mrs. '$ 

Company at dinner on the 

at o'clock. 

In writing to persons of rank far above your own, ci 
to clergymen of high dignity, such as bishops and deans, 
the word " honor" should be substituted for " favor." 

These invitations should properly be sent by a servant 
Slid not by the post, unless the distance be great. 

Next comes the choice of guests, thus assembled, to si 
iB close contact frr two hours or more. 

This involves many considerations. If your guests 



363 



LADIES AT A DINNER. 



not assimilate, no luxury of dinners, no perfection of 

manners on your part, can avert a failure. Yet so little 
is this understood, that there are persons who collect, aa 
it. woul i seem, a party so discordant as to provoke a ques- 
tion whether they had not shaken them all in a bag to- 
gether, an] turned them out loose upon each other — ths 
man of easy principles with the serious doctor of divinity; 
the man of talent with a rich and mindless merchant ; the 
quiet country family with the trashy London dashers, 
and so on; and these solecisms m taste and discretion 
occur frequently. Nor ought the worldly positions of 
people to be the sole consideration. Many a nobleman 
will assimilate for better with the poor author than with 
the millionaire ; wealth, simply because it is wealth, gains 
little prestige in good circles ; there is a prejudice against 
the nouveau inches among the old families of England. 
Neither is it desirable to club all your aristocratic or fash- 
ionable acquaintance together ; you offend by so doing, 
those who are left out : and many lose valuable friends 
who, however conscious they may be of an inferior posi- 
tion, do not like to be reminded of it. It is something, 
too. to avoid giving pain to the feelings of others. 

The general rule, however, is to invite persons of nearly 
the same standing in society to meet at dinner ; taking 
care that their general views and mode of life are not so 
contrasted as to be likely to clash. In the country, dif- 
ference of politics used to form a barrier ; Whig and Tory, 
even if they sat at table together, would scarcely drink 
wine with each other. But all that inconvenience to host 
and hostess has long since passed away, and to the facili- 
ties of forming a party the custom of no longer asking any 
one to t ike wine lias contributed. 



SELECTION OF GUESTS. Bl>9 

These who wish to form agreeable dinner-parties will 
avoid a class : a dinner composed of officers only And theii 
wives recalls too forcibly barrack life ; 4 1 talking pipe- 
clay," as they term it, is as fatiguing as u the ship, 7 
though not so vulgar. Wives of officers in marching regi- 
ments have generally travelled far, and seen nothirg \ 
they can tell you little but how bad their quarters were, 
and how they were hurried away from such and such a 
place. The gentlemen of the bar sprinkled about, make 
a charming spice to a dinner ; but, like all spices, one 
must not have too much of them : they want keeping 
down, otherwise you have your dining-room turned into 
Westminster Hall ; or you feel, if you venture to talk 
yourself, as if you were subjecting yourself to a cross- 
examination. Yet the late Lord Grenville remarked, that 
he was always glad to meet a lawyer at a dinner-party 
for he was then sure that some good topic would be started. 
The title of doctor is against the fascination of a physi- 
cian's manners ; his very attentions may seem to have an 
interested air, since the doctor's clients are in society. A 
conclave of doctors is even more formidable than one of 
lawyers, for the former have only to deal with the consti- 
tution of the state, and the latter are looking, perhaps, at 
your constitution, and privately condemning it. A whole 
party composed of clergymen is perhaps worse : delightful 
as companions, valuable as friends, as many clergymen 
are when assembled they run naturally into topics we }q 
not wish to have familiarized. Secular interests peep out 
from those we esteem sacred : the pleasures of gastrono- 
my, which are as fully appreciated by the clergy as by 
any other class # seem so little to accord with the spirit* 
stirring eloquence we heard last Sunday, that we regret 
16* 



S70 



LADIES AT A DINNER. 



Laving met our c< venerable rector' under such circuin- 
stances. 

" Perhaps," says Dr. Johnson, " good-breeding consists 
in having no particular mark of any profession, but a gen 
eral elegance of manners." On this principle of gene 
ralizing should dinner-parties be formed. 

In high English society, to quote that accomplishes 
member of society, Mr. Hay ward, in his Treatise on 
Codes of Manners, any calling was some few years since 
derogatory to the perfect character of a gentleman ; it is 
now otherwise. Yet the distinction of the aristocratic 
professions, as opposed to other callings, is maintained, 
and it will perhaps continue to be so. These are the 
church, the bar. the higher walks of medicine, the army 
and navy. The different members of these professions and 
their wives and families are therefore fit for any society ; 
there is no possible objection to their mixing at a dinner- 
table with nobility, provided they be well-bred and agree- 
able. The literary man. if a gentleman by education and 
manners, is always an agreeable audition; and the highest 
in rank have in this country set the example of inviting 
artists, architects, and sculptors, but not always their fam- 
ilies, to their tables. 

Great eminence in talents sets aside distinctions ; and 
i ' the first class of millionaires,' 3 Mr. Hay ward assures us, 
■ rise superior to rules." But it is not in good taste to 
follow out this last maxim, unless high personal character, 
the good employment of vast wealth, and a gentlemanly 
bearing, accompany riches. The lady, whose talk about 
i: bigotry and virtue'"' was the amusement of the eluhs 
some years since, had no right, in regard to her husband's 
position and character, to be associated, as she was, with 



PRECEDENCE. 



women of high rank or of old patrician families ; the tar- 
nish has since been taken off the picture, and It has sunk 
down to its original value, after having been at a fabulous 
estimation in the social mart 

The next points refer to the duties of a lady on the 
arrival of the guests at the house. She remains in soma 
convenient part of her drawing-room, and too much can* 
not be said of the importance of her being dressed some 
time before the party arrives. Want of attention in this* 
respect, though very much less thought of now than for- 
merly, is a real breach of good manners. Neither should 
her daughters, should she have any, come dropping in 
one by one, but should be seated, ready to receive the 
visitors. 

Previously, however, to her going up to dress, the lady 
of the house should have arranged, with some considera- 
tion, who is to take precedence. 

1. With respect to persons of title. These take pre- 
cedence according to their titles; but, should there be 
diplomatic foreigners of the first class, they go out first ; 
or, should there be a bishop and his wife, precedence i3 
usually given to them by courtesy, even over dukes and 
marquises ; bishops ranking with earls.* The same cour- 
tesy is extended to all the dignified clergy; whilst the 
wives of all the clergy take precedence of the wives of 
barristers ; and the wives of the esquires, without profes- 
sions or trade, take precedence of both clergymen's and 
5arii3ters 7 wives. These distinctions are seldom, it is true, 
rigorously to be pursued, but it is convenient to know 
them ; it is as well, also, especially to remember that the 

• See Lodge's Orders for Precedency. An archbishop ranks wit* 
• data. 



872 



LADIES Al A DINNER. 



wives of clergymen and of barristers, by rigit. take pie* 
cedence of the untitled wives of military and naval men 
There is no place specified for physicans, who, however, 
are ranked in the households of the royal family next to 
the knights, and whose wives, therefore, go out after thorn 
of the barristers. 

These seem to be worldly and unimportant rules ; but 
whatever prevents mistakes, ill-will, and the possibility of 
doing a rude action without intention, comes under the 
comprehensive head — " How to be civil with ease." Be- 
sides, although in friendly society, as it is called, a breach 
of etiquette might not signify, there is so much that is 
unfriendly, so much in which criticism stalks among the 
company seeking whose conduct he may challenge, that a 
hostess should be perfectly armed with every defence 
against comment. 

As her guests enter she should advance half-way to 
meet them. This is a point of politeness ; and a lady in 
a county near London gave great offence once at her first 
dinner, by standing with one arm on her mantle-piece, 
waiting till her company came up to her. All the chairs 
should be ready, so that there should be no placing or 
needless confusion ; but, should any change in the arrange- 
ments of the rooms be requisite, it should be made by th6 
butler or by the gentleman of the house. The lady of 
the house should do nothing but receive, converse, and 
look as well as she can. To this end her room and all 
the minutiae should be tastefully arranged. A distribu- 
tion of natural flowers adds greatly to the gaiety of a 
drawing-room, how richly or poorly soever it may be fur- 
nished : people are apt to forget in England, what is never 
forgotten in Fran:e, how greatly the style and arrange* 



RECEPTION OF GUESTS. 



873 



ment of furniture contribute to make a party g 3 off well, 
and those engaged in it look well, of which pleasing fad 
people often have a sort of intuitive conviction, even with- 
out the aid >f the looking-glass. 

And now the test of good-breeding in a hostess is to be 
detected ; it is often a severe one. Her guests may arrive 
all at once, she must not be hurried, yet each and all must 
feel that they have her individual attention. She must 
have something pleasing and cheerful to say to every one, 
but she must not say or do too much. Perhaps her guests 
are late, or perhaps, worst martyrdom of all, her servants 
are late in announcing dinner. She chafes inwardly ; but 
still, feeling as if on a stage, with an army of observation 
around her, she bears up ; strikes out new subjects ; ap- 
pears a,s if still expecting some one ; no, nothing is to go 
wrong with her ; be it ever really so wrong that day, 
she must not seem to notice it. 

It may be argued that this implies a degree of self- 
restraint akin to dissimulation ; but that is an error ; self- 
restraint does not imply dissimulation. At length dinner 
is announced ; perhaps a few minutes previously some 
reckless youth, or sexagenarian, but probably the former, 
since the being too late for dinner is not commonly the 
fault of age, comes breathlessly in. I am shocked to say 
I have seen married ladies look very much out of temper 
at the delinquent on such occasions, especially if he hap- 
pened to be " some one we must ask" — a youth from col- 
lege, or a country cousin — and I have heard the gentleman 
call out "dinner" to the servant before the door was 
closed. The French host and hostess would die rather 
In a well-arranged party the butler should have a list of 



874 



LADIES AT A DINNER. 



the guests, so that he may know, as one after anothei 
comes in, ttat he may be placing the silver dishes with hot 
water in them on the table, arranging the lights, and doing 
many little things that require time, and, if omitted, cau?e 
delay. 

The party being assembled, and dinner announced, the 
gentleman of the house offers the lady of the highest rank 
his arm, and, having previously arranged with the othei 
gentlemen which ladies they are to conduct, moves off 
with the one he has chosen to the dinner-table, and places 
her on his right hand, next to himself. 

The gentleman appointed to conduct the lady of tha 
house almost simultaneously offers her his arm ; they fol- 
low, and are followed in their turn by the whole of the 
company, linked by previous arrangement. As these va- 
rious couples enter, the master of the house, already in 
the dining-room, arranges where they are to sit. Some- 
times, however, and in certain houses, this is not done, 
but, more gracefully I think, the party seat themselves aa 
they enter : a due sacrifice to the rules of etiquette having 
been made by the master and mistress of the house in their 
own persons. 

It is still customary, but not invariably so, as formerly 
for a lady to sit at the head of her own table. Let us. 
however, suppose her there, as being the most frequent 
arrangement. 

Henceforth she has nothing to do with the dinner, ^oept 
to partake of it In old times, the lady presiding was 
expected to carve every dish before her, and to be perfect 
in the art of carving. Lady Mary Montague, presiding 
&t her father s table, was condemned, at fifteen, to perform 



CONVERSATION AT DINNER. 



876 



this feat whenever her father had a party. Had she lived 
now she need never have touched a spoon, fork, or knife, 
except those on her own plate ; her lovely face miglif 
have beamed serenely on those around her ; and her dawn- 
ing powers of mind have been enhanced by conversation 
wluch was in those days impossible. In the present era 
whilst the hostess should, as it were, see everything tha 
goes on, or does not go on, she should look at nothings 
Bay nothing, and reserve all stricutres on failure and re- 
proof, if needful, not until the time when guests shall have 
departed, but until the next day, when her servants, hav- 
ing recovered the fatigue of unusual exertion, will be 
more willing to listen without irritation and to good effect 
than on the previous evening. 

Drinking much wine is vulgar, whether the sin be per- 
petrated by a duchess or a farmer's wife : all manifest 
self-indulgence tends to vulgarity. A lady, also, should 
not be ravenous at table; neither should she talk of 
eating or of the dishes. Whatever conversation takes 
place should be easy ; if possible sensible, even intellec- 
tual, without pedantry. It may be personal, if with pru- 
dence ; for nothing is so agreeable, for instance, as to hear 
public characters discussed at table ; and there is a nat- 
ural love of biography in the human mind that renders j 
anecdote, without scandal, always agreeable. The conver- 
sation at dinner tables is usually carried on in an under 
tone, and addressed first to one neighboring gentleman, 
then to another. In large dinner-parties general conver- 
sation is impossible. It is only at that delightful form 
of social intercourse, a small party, that one may enjoj 
the luxury of an animated and general conversation. 



876 



LADIES i** A DIXEER. 



It is now the custom for ladies to retire after the id 
and dessert have gone round. They then retire, almost 
in the same order as they came, to the drawing-room 
Here the province of the lady of the house is to maintain 
easy and cheerful conversation, and to make it, if possible, 
general. Her labors are often not well repaid, but, ia 
modern times, are not of long duration. 

One is tempted, however, sometimes to envy the French 
customs. At a Parisian dinner-party, each gentleman 
rises with his appointed lady neighbor, gives her his arm, 
and leads her into the drawing-room, where coffee cornea 
in directly. Thus the evening begins. In some instances 
the gentlemen, and ladies also, soon take their leave ; 
in others, remain till ten or eleven o'clock. But the 
dreary interregnum which still occurs in this country, 
whilst mine host is circulating the bottle below — and 
ladies are discussing their servants, the last tooth their 
baby cut, or the raging epidemic, in the drawing-room 
above — is unknown in the salons of Paris. 

It must not be forgotten that all the comfort and part 
of the success of a dinner-party must depend on the pre- 
vious arrangements ; but the qualities which regulate a 
house, and the experience which is brought to bear upon 
the important knowledge of how to give a dinner-party, 
as far as the material part is concerned, is not in my 
province. 

What Lord Chesterfield says is here to the purpose: 
l> The nature of things," he remarks, " is always and 
67ery where the same, but the modes of them vary more 
or less in every country but good-breeding, he adds, con- 
sists in an easy and genteel conformity to them, or rather 



AFTER DINNER. 



"the assuming of them at proper times and in propel 
places." 

In conclusion, let us recal the advice of Napoleon the 
First, who duly respected the importance of dinner-partie* 
&s a social institution t 

'* Ttnez bonne table, ct soigne s let f emmet 



CHAPTER XliL 



BALLS. 

BAtl£ are the paradise of daughters, the purgalc vy of 
chaperons, and the Pandemonium of Paterfamilias. But 
when he has Arabella's ball-dresses to pay for; when 
mamma tells him he cannot have the brougham to-night 
because of Lady Fantile's dance ; when he finds the house 
suddenly filled with an army of upholsterer's men, the 
passage barricaded with cane-bottomed benches, the draw- 
ing-room pillaged of its carpet and furniture, and in course 
of time himself turned bodily out of his own library with 
no more apology than, " We want it for the tea to-night 
when, if he goes to bed, there is that blessed — oh ! yes, bless- 
ed — horn going on one note all night long, and, if he stops 
up has no room to take refuge in. and must by force of cir- 
cumstances appear in the ball-room among people of whom 
he does not know one quarter, and who will perhaps kindly 
put the final stroke to his misery by mistaking him for hia 
own butler : when Paterfam. undergoes this and more, he 
has no right to a mplain, and call it all waste of time and 
\ ure folly. Will he call it so when Arabella announces 
that she is engaged to the young and wealthy Sir Thysse 
Thatte, Bart., and that it was at one ball he met her, at 
another he flirted, at a third he courted, and at a fourth 
offered ? Will he call it so when he learns that it is the 
balls and parties — innocent amusements — which have kept 
(378) 



THE INMTAHONS. 



870 



his son Augustus from tlie gaming-table, and Adolphus 
from curagoa ? Perhaps he will give them a worse epithet 
when they have killed Ada and worn out her mother. But 
then whose fault was that ? Est modus in rebus, and 
balls in moderation are as different from balls in exees? a 
gun-practice at Woolwich from gun-practice at Delhi. 

There is not half enough innocent amusement in Eng- 
land, and, therefore, there is far too much vice. I should 
like to see dancing come in and drinking go out (as it 
would do) among our lower orders. I should like to see 
Clod clap his heels together on the village-green, instead 
of clogging his senses with bad beer at the village public- 
house. They do so in France, and the Fre^h are a 
sober race compared with the English. It would improve 
the health of the women and the morals of the men. But 
this is not my present affair. The advantage of the ball 
in the upper classes is. that it brings young people to- 
gether for a sensible and innocent recreation, and takes 
them away from silly, if not bad ones, that it gives them 
exercise, and that the general effect of the beauty, ele- 
gance, and brilliance of a ball is to elevate rather than 
deprave the mind. 

Balls can onlybegirai often by the rich, but ball-goers 
are expected to turn ball-givers once a year at least, and 
your one dance, if well arranged, will cost you as much 
as your dinners for the whole season. It is not often then 
that people who have no daughters, and are too old to 
dance themselves, give a ball ; and, as a rule, if you can- 
not afford to do it in good style, it is better to leave it 
alone. In London, however, no one will blame you for 
not giving a dance. The difficulty, then, is not to find 
balls enough to go to, but time enough to go to all 



S80 



BALLS. 



When you bare made up your mind to give a ball, and 
have succeeded in fixing a day when there will be no very 
grand affair, such as a court-ball, to take your guests 
away, the first thing to do is to send the invitations. 

"How many shall we ask. Arabella?" 

i; Oh ! at least two hundred, mamma. I do so like i 
large ball." 

" Nonsense, my dear, our rooms won't hold eighty with 
comfort."' 

" Then there is the staircase." 

" A pleasant prospect for late comers." 

l ' And the hall. " 

11 "Where they will have the society of the footmen — 
very agreeable." 

' ; And the conservatory," urges Arabella. 

" No, my child, that is reserved for flirtations. In 
short, if we have more than a hundred, it will be a terri- 
ble crush."' 

" But. mamma, a crush is quite the fashion. I'm sure 
people here in London don't go to balls to dance." 

"What for then, Miss Wisdom?" 

" To sav thev have been there : to sav it was a fright- 
ful crush at the Joneses : to see their neighbors, to be 
sure." 

" And to be melted with the heat." 

" Well, we can ice them, mamma." 

However, Arabella is partly right. In London, and 
during the season, if a ball is given as a formality, an£ 
the rooms are not large, it is better to give up the hope 
of comfortable dancing, and have the renommie of a 
crush. All the gentlemen who failed to get into the 
drawing-room, and all the young ladies whose dresse* 



BALLS. 



wero hopelessly wrecked, will execrate, but still lcmem- 
ber you, and it is something to be remembered in London, 
whether well or ill. So that when you have called your 
guests together as close as sheep in a fold, allowed them 
to take an hour to climb the stairs, and half an hour to 
get down again, given them a supper from Gunter's, with 
champagne of the quality which induced impudent Brum- 
mell to ask for u some more of that cider; very good 
cider that," you have done the notorious if not the agree- 
able thing, and Mrs. Fitzjones' ball will be talked of and 
remembered. But there are better ways of achieving this 
highly desirable notoriety of three days' duration. 

Any number over one hundred constitutes a " large 
ball," below that number it is simply u a bail," and un- 
der fifty " a dance." I have been at a ball of ten thous- 
and, as large as the garrison of Paris itself, given by 
Madame Hausmann at the Hotel de Ville in that city 
and yet, though it was not " the thing" to dance there, 
the rooms looked almost empty, so many and so large 
were they. On the other hand, I have been at the Tuil- 
eries when there was not a tenth of that number, and 
found the dancing confined to one little spot in the long 
gallery, about as large as an ordinary London drawing- 
room. In short, the numbers must be proportioned to 
the size of the rooms, with this proviso, that the more 
you have, the more brilliant, the fewer you have, the 
more enjoyable it will be. 

In making your list, you must not take in all your 
acquaintance, but only all those who are moveable — the 
marionettes, in fact. Middle-aged people think it a com- 
pliment to be asked to a ball about as much as the boa- 
constric'or in the Regent's Park would. Both he and 



882 



BALLS. 



they like to be fed, and after five-and-thirty, it is laborious 
not cnly to dance, but even to look at dancing. 

6 ' What shall we do for gentleman, mamma? I have 
counted up thirty-eight young ladies who dance, and only 
twenty- five partners for them." 

In some places this is a question to which there is no 
answer but despair. Young men are at a premium in the 
ranks of Terpsichore as much as those of death, and they 
nust be bribed to join by as large a bounty, in the shape 
of a good supper. " I shan't go to the Fitzjoneses." yawna 
De Boots of the Scotch Muffineers, ££ the champagne was 
undrinkable last year, and the pate de foie gras tasted 
like kitten." How De Boots of the Muffineers comes to 
know the taste of kitten does not transpire. 

" Well, my love." says mamma, " we must get some 
intimate friends to bring a young man or two." 

Thereupon there is a casting up of who knows whom, 
and whom it would be best to commission as recruiting- 
eergeant. But mamma, Arabella, and the intimate ami 
de la maison may talk and write and labor, they will 
never make up the full war complement, and wall-flowers 
will flourish still. This svstem of " bringing a friend " 
is a very bad one. and should be avoided. It reminds me 
of a story of worthy Mrs. P — , who had Junotfs house in 
Paris, and in its magnificent rooms gave some of the larg- 
est and most brilliant balls, but, owing to the " friend' 
System, very mixed. So much so that on one occasion a 
gentleman went up to her and told her that there was one 
of the swell mob present. Mrs. P — was deaf and amia- 
ble. " Dear me," she replied, " is there really ? I hope 
ho has had some supper." But the disciple of Fagan had 
taken care if himself; he had not only had supper, but 



THE ARRANGEMENTS. 



883 



when he had done using his fork and spoon had, in tha 
neatest manner, put thern away in his pocket, so that the 
nest time I went to Mrs. P — 's, I found a mouchard 
sitting near the door, behind a large book. I was asked 
my name and address, and doubtless my description wa» 
taken down too. I found that ladies as well as gentlemen 
were treated in this way. 

Your best plan, therefore, is to invite only one-third 
more than your rooms will hold, for you may be sure that 
more than that number will disappoint you. The invita- 
tions should be sent out three weeks beforehand, and you 
need not expect answers, except from those who have an 
excuse for not accepting. 

The requisites for an agreeable ball are good ventila- 
tion, good arrangment, a good floor, good music, a good 
supper, and good company. The arrangements are perhaps 
more important than any other item, and in this country 
they are little understood or greatly neglected. Yet the 
enjoyment of the dancers is materially increased by the 
brillance and elegance of the details, beauty and dress are 
enhanced by good lighting or proper colors, and the illu- 
sion of a fairy like scene may be brought up by judicious 
management, and the concealment of everything that 
does not strictly accord with the gaiety. In Paris, where 
balls, in spite of the absence of supper, are more elegant 
than anywhere else, a vast deal of effect and freshness is 
secured by the employment of shrubs, plants, and flowers, 
and these may be freely used without making your rooing 
fantastic. Thus that odious entrance from the kitchen 
stairs, which yawns upon the lobby of most London housea ; 
should be concealed by a thick hedge of rhododendrons in 
pots ; the balustrades of the staircase and gallery should 



884 



E J LLS. 



be woven with evergreens, and all the fire-places should 
be concealed by plenty of plants in flower. In Paris, 
again, the musicians are unseen, and the strains of the 
piano, horn, flageolet, and violin proceed from behind 
flowery bank, artfully raised in one corner of the ball 
room, 

It is a rare thing in London to find more than four or 
five rooms en suite, and often the number does nor exceed 
two. In the " flats'*' of the large French houses, you 
have often as many as seven or eight rooms opening one 
into another, and so much is the advantage of space re- 
cognized, that a bed-room even is opened at the end of 
the suite, if necessary. I have danced in a room where 
the grand bed was standing in an alcove, scarcely con- 
cealed by thin muslin curtains, and disguised with » 
coverlet of embroidered white satin. But in England ar v 
sacrifice should be made to secure a refreshment-room, if 
not a supper-room, on the same floor as the ball-room, 
nothing being more trying to ladies' dresses than the 
crush down and up the stairs. A cloak-room down stairs 
for the ladies, with one or two maids to assist them ; a 
tea and coffee room, with at least two servants : and a 
hat-room for gentlemen, are indispensable. If the ball is 
a large one, numbered tickets should be given for the 
cloaks and hats. 

Up stairs the color and lighting of the rooms is essen- 
tial. The ball-room especially should be that which has 
the lightest paper ; and if there be dark curtains, par- 
ticularly red ones, they must be taken down and replaced 
by light ones. The best color for a ball-room is very 
pale yellow. The light should come from the walls, 
Lightened by strong reflectors. Chandeliers are dan* 



THE FLOOR. 



385 



gerous, and throw a downward shadow ; at any rate, wa:s 
should always be replaced by globe lamps. After the 
Tuileries' balls, we often returned with complete epau- 
lettes of wax-spots on our shoulders, if in moments of 
carelessness we had stood under the chandeliers. Gas is 
hsating, and throws rather a sickly glare. 

How can we dance well without a proper ground ? It 
was all very well for nymphs and satyrs to " trip it on 
the light fantastic toe' ; over greensward and pebbly paths, 
but then they did not waltz d deux temps. A iL carpet- 
dance" is a bad dance, and the cloth drawn over the Kid- 
derminster is seldom tight enough, and never so good as a 
floor. English people have as great a horror of taking up 
their carpets as Frenchmen are supposed to have of wash- 
ing their necks. Probably the amount of dust which 
would meet their gaze is too appalling to think of. Then, 
again, English boards are of a wood which it is not easy 
to polish. Commend me to the old oak-floors ; which, 
with a little bees'-wax, come out as dark as ebony, and 
help the unskilled foot to glide. However, a polished 
floor, whatever the wood, is always the best thing to dance 
on, and, if you want to give a ball, and not only a crush, 
you should hire a man who, with a brush under one foot, 
and a slipper on the other, will dance over the floor for 
four or five hours, till you can almost see your face in it. 
Above all, take care that ther^ is not bees'-wax enough 
to blacken the ladies' shoes. It is the amount of rubbing 
^hich must give it the polish. 

Four musicians are enough for a private ball. If the 
I )om is not large, do away with the horn ; the flageolet 
is !ess noisy, and marks the time quite as well. A piano 
and violin form the mainstay of the band ; but if the room 
17 



338 



BALLS. 



be large, a larger band may be introduced to gi eat advan- 
tage. The dances should be arranged beforehand, and, 
for large balls you should have printed a number of don* 
ble cards, containing on the one side a list of the dances ; 
on the other, blank spaces to be filled up by the names oi 
partners'. A small pencil should be attached to each 
card, which should be given to each guest in the cloak- 
room. Every ball opens with a quadrille, followed by a 
waltz. The number of the dances varies generally from 
eighteen to twenty-four, supper making a break after the 
fourteenth dance. Let us suppose you have twenty-one 
dances ; then seven of these should be quadrilles, three 
of w T hich may be lancers. There should next be seven 
waltzes, four galops, a polka, a polka-mazurka, and somo 
other dance. 

We come at last to what some people of bad taste 
think the most important part, — the eating and drinking. 
As a first rule, it may be laid down that nothing should 
be handed in a ball. A refreshment-room is, therefore, 
indispensable. The ladies are to be first considered in 
this matter. The refreshments may be simple, comprising 
tea, lemonade, that detestable concoction called negus, 
iced sherbet, ices, wafers, cakes, and bonbons. In French 
parties they give you, towards the end of the evening, hot 
chocolate, and this is coming into fashion in England, and 
is certainly very refreshing. In the south of Germany 
a lady asks you to fetch her a glass of beer ; in Munich, 
this is customary even in the court circles. There is a 
terrble prejudice against beer in England, tut it is per- 
haps the best thing to drink after dancing. Fancy our 
pretty Misses quaffing their pint of Bass ! Yet why not ? 
In Germany and France, and now, too, in England, the 



REFRESHMENTS. 



387 



favorite bonbon is a chestnut or slip of orange in a coat 
of candied sugar. I remember well at Munich a trick 
that was played on an old geheim-rath. who was known 
to have a violent passion for oranges glacs es, and suspect' 
ed of carrying them away in his pockets in large quanti* 
ties. A number of young officers managed t(. stuff his 
coat-pockets with these bonbons without his discovering it 5 
and then one of them, assuming great interest in the old 
gentleman, induced him to sit down for a little chat. 
When he got up again there was a stream of orange 
juice issuing from each coat-tail, and the old man pottered 
about quite unconscious of the amusement he excited. 

The supper, of course, has a separate room, which must 
be well lit. Of its contents, as I am not a confectioner, 
1 can say nothing. Two things I can say : Ice every- 
thing (in a London season) that can be conveniently iced, 
and let there be nothing that requires carving. The 
fowls and birds should, therefore, all be cut up. The 
supper hour in London is generally midnight, after which 
it goes on till the end of the ball. In England, it is 
usually served with much expense and display on a table, 
round which all the dancers stand ; but in France, even 
at the Tuileries, it is arranged on long buffets, as in our 
public balls, the servants standing behind, and thus sav- 
< ing a vast deal of pushing about, and much trouble to the 
; gentlemen. Another importation from France, is the cus- 
tom of giving hot soup at supper, and a very good one it 
| is. In fact, hot things are still to be desired for supper, 
and always will be acceptable. At a ball no one sits 
down to supper ; at a small dance the ladies sit, and the 
gentleman stand behind them. A lady should never 
drink more than one glass of champagne, nor a man more 



388 



BALLS. 



than two. There is a modern custom which savos the 
pockets of ball-givers, and is most grateful to dancers, 
that of giving the men bottled beer. No man of senss 
w ill drink bad gooseberry when he can get good Bass. 
The latter refreshes more, and intoxicates less ; but until 
wc become sensible on this point, champagne will remain 
as indispensable an element of the ball-supper as trifle 
tipsy-cake, and mayonnaise ; which last, if made with 
fish, is the best dish you can eat at this meal. 

I now pa t: s to the etiquettes of the ball-room. 

In the days when bows were made down to an angle of 
45°, and it took two minutes to sink and two to rise in a 
curtsey, the givers of balls must have been punished for 
their entertainment by a stiffness the next day quite as 
trying as that of the young gentleman who has followed 
the hounds fgr the first time in his life. As for the worthy 
Prefect and Madame la Pref'cte de la Seine, they would 
have been carried away lifeless with fatigue before the 
half of the thousands had had their bow in the receiving- 
room of the Hotel de Ville at Paris. In the present day 
the muscles of the mouth are brought more into requisi- 
tion, and for the time being the worst of Xantippes must 
turn into an angel of amiability if she gives a bail. The 
lady of the house must, in short, linger till supper-time 
_n the neighborhood of the door by which her guests enter 
the rooms ; she must have a pleasant smile for everybody; 
md. if possible she should know everybody's name, anl 
How many they are in family. To a large ball you ask a 
great number of people with whom you have a slight ac- 
quaintance, and of course a number of gentlemen arrive 
who may be your husband's or son's friend's or recruits 
levied by an ami de la maison. To these a bow rather 



RECEIVING THE GUESTS. 589 

more inclined than to your own friends, and a particularly 
amiable smile, is necessary ; but in order to put them 
quite at their ease, you should be able to come forward and 
say some little polite phrase or other. " Are we not to 
have the pleasure of seeing more of your party ?" perhaps 
you ask, when a mamma and one daughter are announced t 
Bat if there are no more of them to come, how awkward 
for you and them ! So too it is wise to avoid asking aftei 
relations, unless you are quite sure. about their existence. 
What can the bereaved widower say or look, when in the 
excess of your amiability you inquire " How is Mrs. — ?" 
The master of the house 1 too, if he is not gone out of 
town " on business/' for that night, should be in the 
neighborLwv* <jl his spouse, in order to introduce to her 
any of his own recruits. The sons will hang about the 
same quarter for the same purpose, but the daughters will 
be otherwise occupied. It is their duty to see that the 
dances are formed, and a well-bred young lady does not 
dance till she has found partners for all the young ladies 
or as many of them as can be supplied from the ranks of 
the recruits present. Now and then you will see her dart 
anxiously out upon the landing, to press into the service 
those languid loungers who are sure to be hanging about 
the doors. She has the right to ask a gentleman to dance 
without having a previous acquaintance, but she must be 
careful how she uses it. I have known a case where a 
distinguished young man having declined her invitation tc 
dance, but being pressed by "I can't make up the Landers 
without you," somewhat reluctantly accepted, performed 
hi.-* part so well, that his partner was quite eprise with 
him, and even ventured on a little flirtation. You can 
imagine her dismay, when later in the evening she saw her 



* 



590 



BALLS. 



charming acquaintance carrying up a f ile of plates from 
the kitchen to the supper-room. For the first time in her 
life she had danced with an occasional waiter. The genus 
wall-flower is one that grows well in every ball-room, but 
a young lady, however plain, however stupid, ca^ if sK 
dances well always have some partners. The great thing 
is to secure the first, who, on retiring, will say to some of 
his friends, " I'll tell you who dances well : that girl in 
pink, Miss A — , I advise you to get introduced to her.'' 
The right of introducing rests mainly with the ladies and 
gentlemen of the house, but a chaperon may present a 
gentleman to her charge ; or if you, being a man, are in- 
timate with a young lady, you may ask her permission to 
introduce some friend. It is in very bad taste to refuse 
this permission, but if a lady has an insuperable objection 
to the person in question, she may decline to dance alto- 
gether, or refer the applicant to her chaperon. In France, 
as I have said, no introduction is needed, though English 
young ladies generally expect it even at French parties. 
At any rate, if a gentleman comes up to her and asks her 
to dance, she must not reply, as a celebrated English 
beauty once did at the Tuileries, " I have not the pleasure 
of your acquaintance," by which she acquired the reputa- 
tion of very bad breeding. 

A young lady must be very careful how she refuses to 
dance with a gentleman. Next to refusing an offer of 
marriage, few things are so likely to draw upon her the 
n-dignation of the rejected applicant, for unless a good 
reason is given, he is apt to take it as evidence of a per- 
sonal dislike. There is a great deal of polite (?) false- 
hood used on these occasions. k 'I am sorry that I am 
engaged.' 1 " I have a slight headache, an.} do not intend 



BALL-ROOM ETIQUETTE. 



391 



to jance;" but a lady should never be guilty even of a 
conventional lie, and if she replies very politely, asking 
to be excused, as she does not wish to dance (" with you/ 
being probably her mental reservation), a man ought to be 
satisfied. At all events, he should never press her to 
lance after one refusal. The set forms which Turveydrop 
would give for the invitation are too much of the deportment 
school to be used in practice. If you know a young lady 
slightly, it is sufficient to say to her, u May I have the 
pleasure of dancing this waltz, &c. with you?" or if in- 
timately, " Will you dance, Miss A — ?" The young 
lady who has refused one gentleman has no right to ac- 
cept another for that dance ; and young ladies who do not 
wish to be annoyed must take care not to accept two gen- 
tlemen for the same dance. In Germany such innocent 
blunders often cause fatal results. Two partners arrive at 
the same moment to claim the fair one's hand ; she vows 
she has not made a mistake ; " was sure she was engaged 
to Herr A — , and not to Herr B — Herr B — is equally 
certain that she was engaged to him. The awkwardness 
is, that if he at once gives her up, he appears to be indif- 
ferent about it ; while, if he presses his suit, he must 
quarrel with Herr A — , unless the damsel is clever enough 
to satisfy both of them ; and particularly if there is an 
especial interest in Herr B — , he yields at last, but when 
the dance is over, sends a friend to Herr A — . Absurd 
as all this is, it is common, and I have often seen one Hen 
')i the other walking about with a huge gash on his cheek, 
UT his arm in a sling, a few days after a ball. 

Friendship, it appears, can be let out on hire. The 
lady who was so very amiable to you last night, has a 
li^ht to ignore your existence to-day. In fact, a ball 



BALLS. 



roonx acquaintance rarely goes any farmer, until you have 
met at more baljs than one. In the same way a man can- 
not, after being introduced to a young lady to dance with, 
ask her to do so more than twice in the same evening 
On the Continent, however intimate, he must never dancf 
twice with the same lady, that is, if she be unmarried * 
Mamma would interfere, and ask his intentions if he did 
so. In England, a man of sense will select at most one 
or two partners, and dance with them alternately the 
whole evening. But then he must expect comment there- 
upon, and a young lady who does not wish to have her 
name coupled with his, will not allow him to single her 
out in this manner. However, a man may dance four or 
even five times with the same partner without this risk. 
On the other hand, a really well-bred man will wish to be 
useful, and there are certain people whom it is imperative 
on him to ask to dance — the daughters of the house, for 
instance, and any young ladies whom he may know inti- 
mately ; but most of all the well-bred and amiable man 
will sacrifice himself to those plain, ill-dressed, dull-looking 
beings who cling to the wall, unsought and despairing. 
After all, he will not regret his good-nature. The spirits 
reviving at the unexpected invitation, the wall-flower will 
pour out her best conversation, will dance her best, and 
will show him her gratitude in some way or other. So, 
too, an amiable girl will do her best tc find partners for 
her w&ll-flower friends, even at the risk of sitting out 
herself. 

The formal bow at the end of a quadrille has gradu- 
ally dwindled away. At the end of every dance you offer 
you right arm to your partner (if by mistake you offer 
the left, you may turn the blunder into a pretty coinpli- 



BALL-ROOM MANNERS. 



898 



merit, by reminding her that it is le bras du caeur, near- 
est the heart, which if not anatomically true, is at least 
no worse than talking of a sunset and sunrise), and 
walk half round the room with her. You then ask her 
if she will take any refreshment, and, if she accepts, you 
convey your precious allotment of tarlatane to the re- 
fre&hment-room to be invigorated by an ice or negus, 
•or what you will. It is judicious not to linger toe 
long in this room, if you are engaged to some one else 
for the next dance. You will have the pleasure of hear- 
ing the music begin in the distant ball-room, and of re- 
fleeting that an expectant fair is sighing for you like 
Mariana — 

" He cometh not," sbe said. 
She said, "I am a-weary a-weary, 
I would I were in bee!;" 

which is not an unfrequent wish in some ball-rooms. A 
well-bred girl, too, will remember this, and always offei 
to return to the ball-room, however interesting che con- 
versation. 

If you are prudent you will not dance every dance 
nor, in fact, much more than half the number on the list ; 
you will then escape that hateful redness of face at the 
time, and that wearing fatigue the next day which are 
among the worst features of a ball. Again, a gentleman 
must remember that a ball is essentially a lady's party, 
and in their presence he should be gentle and delicate al- 
most to a fault, never pushing his way apologizing if ha 
tread on a dress, still more so if he tears it, begging par- 
don for any accidental annoyance he may occasion, and 
addressing every Dody with a smile. But quite unpardon- 
able are those men whom one sometimes meets, who. 
17* 



394 



BALLS. 



standing in a door-way, talk and laugh as they would in 
a barrack or college-rooms, always coarsely, often indeli- 
cately. What must the state of their minds be if the 
sight of beauty, modesty, and virtue does not awe them 
into silence. A man, too, who strolls down the roc in 
srith his head in the air, looking as if there were not i 
creature there worth dancing with, is an ill-bred man. so 
is he who looks bored ; and worse than all is he who takes 
tco much champagne. 

If you are dancing with a young lady when the sup- 
per-room is opened, you must ask her if she would like 
to go to supper, and if she says " yes,*' which, in 999 
cases out of 1000, she certainly will do, you must take 
her thither. If you are not dancing the lady of the house 
will probably recruit you to take in some chaperon. How- 
ever little you may relish this, you must not show your 
disgust. In fact, no man ought to be disgusted at being 
able to do anything for a lady : it should be his highest 
privilege, but it is not — in these modern unchivalrous 
days — perhaps never was so. Having placed your part- 
ner then at the supper-table, if there is room there, but 
if not at a side-table, or even at none, you must be as ac- 
tive as Puck in attending to her wants, and as women 
take as long to settle their fancies in edibles as in love- 
matters, you had better at once get her something sub- 
stantial, chicken, pate de foie gras, mayonnaise, or what 
you will. Afterwards come jelly and trifle in due coui se 

A young lady often goes down half-a-dozen time3 :c 
(Le supper-room — it is to be hoped not for the purpose 
of eating — but she should not do so with the same part- 
ner more than once. While the lady is supping you 
must stand by and talk to her, attending to every want 



PUBLIC BALLS. 



395 



and the most you may take yourself is a glass ol cham- 
pagne when you help her. You then lead her up stairs 
again, and if you are not wanted there any more, you 
may steal down and do a little quiet refreshment on your 
own account. As long, however, as there are many la* 
lies still at the table, you have no right to begin. Noth«< 
ing marks a man here so much as gorging at supper. 
Balls are meant for dancing, not eating, and unfortunately 
too many young men forget this in the present day. 
Lastly, be careful what you say and how you dance after 
supper, even more so than before it, for if you in the 
slightest way displease a young lady, she may fancy that 
you have been too partial to strong fluids, and ladies 
never forgive that. It would be hard on the lady of the 
house if everybody leaving a large ball thought it neces- 
sary to wish her good-night. In quitting a small dance, 
however, a parting bow is expected. It is then that the 
pretty daughter of the house gives you that sweet smile of 
which you dream afterwards in a gooseberry nightmare 
of a tum-tum-tiddy-tum," and waltzes h deux temps, 
and masses of tarlatane and bright eyes, flushed cheeks 
and dewy glances. See them to-morrow, my dear fellow 7 
it will cure you. 

I think flirtation comes under the head of morals more 
than of manners ; still I may be allowed to say that ball- 
room flirtation being more open is less dangerous than any 
Other But a young lady of taste will be careful not to 
flaunt and publish her flirtation, as if to say, " See, I 
have an admirer !" In the same w r ay a prudent man will 
never presume on a girl's liveliness or banter No man 
of taste ever made an offer after supper, and certainly 



396 



BALLS, 



nine-tenths of those who have done so have regretted u 
at breakfast the next morning. 

Public balls are not much frequented by people of good 
society, except in watering-places and country towns, 
Even there a young lady should not be seen at more than 
t^ro or three in the year. County-balls, race-balls, and 
hunt-balls j are generally better than common suhscrip* 
tion-balls. Charity-balls are an abominable anomaly. 
At public balls there are generally either three or four 
stewards on duty, or a professional master of ceremonies. 
These gentlemen having made all the arrangements, order 
the dances, and have power to change them if desirable. 
They also undertake to present young men to ladies, but 
it must be understood that such an introduction is only 
available for one dance. It is better taste to ask the 
steward to introduce you simply to a partner, than to 
point out any lady in particular. He will probably then 
ask you if you have a choice, and if not, you may be cer- 
tain he will take you to an established wall-flower. Pub- 
lic balls are scarcely enjoyable unless you have your own 
party. 

As the great charm of a ball is its perfect accord and 
harmony, all altercations, loud talking, &c, are doubly 
ill-mannered in a ball-room. Very little suffices to dis* 
lurb the peace of the whole company. 



CHAPTER XIV. 



MORNING AND EVENING PARTIES. 

When all the flower of Greece turned out at thi dry 
of the Argive King, manned their heavy triremes and 
Bailed away to Tenedos, do you imagine that one-fiftieth part 
of their number cared as much as a shield-strap for that 
lady of the white arms but black reputation, whom the 
handsomest man of his day had persuaded to a fly beyond 
her fate's control do you believe it was for fair falso 
Helen that they resolved to sack Troy ? Not a bit of it, 
it was only an excuse for " making a party." So, too 
it was only for the party and the fun that all those hel- 
meted, scarved, iron-cased knights, most preux and gal- 
lant, quitted the bowers of their lady-loves (which, tc 
say truth, must have been rather dull in days when there 
were no cheap novels, no pianos, no crochet, no chess, n<? 
backgammon, and no newspapers to talk about) and 
trotted off to Palestine, determined to return with the 
scalp of a Saladin. Why, if you were to examine the con- 
sciences of nine-tenths of those same chivalrous gentlemen, 
you would find the motive probably made up of the fcl* 
losing ingredients in the following proportions : — 

Religion, - - - ; 

Hatred of Turks, 2 

The wish of my lady-love, - 8 

Because it's the fashion, - 4 

Love of bloodshed, 5 

For the sake of the party, - 16 

(397) 



398 



MORNING AXD EVENING PARTIES. 



In other words, all the other motives together wjuU 
not outbalance that prime consideration. 

People will make a party for anything. " Make a 
party to see the sun set;' 7 " make a party to take 2 
walk ; " make a party to hear the nightingale ;" " make 
a party to go to church j" " make a party to go nowbeio 
near church, but to Hampstead Heath instead ;" " make 
a party to ride a donkey " make a party to play at a 
new game " make a party to do nothing at all." There 
are people — very good people they think themselves too— 
who cannot even read their bibles without a party, and 
the very people who rail at balls and parties, and amuse- 
ment of any kind, will most zmostentatiously make a 
party to see them give away a hundred cups of tea or 
fifty pinafores, which act then goes in the world by the 
name of "charity." I don't think the Pharisees were 
'juite so bad as this, because if they did do their good 
deeds in public, they did not make a party to come and 
Bee them, unless indeed the sounding of a trumpet was 
the Hebrew way of sending out invitations. 

However, this is not my present business. The system 
of gathering a little assembly tc join in every pleasure, 
as long as it is free from ostentation and cant, only shows 
what sociable and sympathetic beings we are. For the 
real objects of these parties are not, believe me. the sun- 
set, the walk, the nightingale's service, the donkey, the 
new game, and the dispensing of pinafores, "but the r-nter- 
tainment of one another's society, so that all parties having 
the same ultimate aim may be governed by the same laws, 
1 have made an exception for dinner and dances, because 
with many people the food and the waltz are the sole ob- 
ject. But in most other cases the excuse given for the 



MAKING A PARTY. 



gathering is precisely the kind of thing which eeuld bs 
enjoyed much more in solitude, or, at most, with one 
sympathetic companion. Take a pic-nic as an instance. 
We go miles, at a considerable outlay may be, :nly to en- 
joy some beautiful view, or to wander in some ancient 
ruin. Does the small gossip of the pic-nic aid us in the 
enjoyment of the former, or its noisy prattle hallow rath- 
er than disturb the memories of the past that haunt the 
latter ? 

So then the main difference in all kinds of parties lies 
in the selection of the guests, the dress they wear, and 
the peculiar tone of the conversation. Another great 
distinction lies, too, between town and country parties. 
Let us then divide parties under these two general heads. 

Town-parties consist in conversaziones, private concerts, 
private theatricals, tea-parties, and matinees. 

The first, w T hich also go by the names of Eeceptions 
and " At Homes," have for principal object conversation 
only, so that in the selection of guests youth and beauty 
are less considered than talent, distinction, and fashion. 
An Indian prince, a great nobleman a distinguished 
foreigner, or a celebrated statesman, are considered valua- 
ble attractions, but it must be a consolation to the lion- 
hulntress to feel that if the presence of these curiosities 
increases the reputation of her assemblies, they do by no 
means add to. but rather diminish the general ease of the 
conversation. On the other hand, to assemble as many 
persons distinguished for talents or achievements as possi- 
ble, must necessarily give them brilliance ; and, as I have 
eaid, the great behave better in the presence of rivals and 
compeers than where they are chief planets. The invi- 
tations should be sent out from a week to a fortnight 



400 MORNING AND EVENING PARTIES. 

befoi ehand. Tea must be served in a separate roots, U 
which the guests are first conducted, and ices handed 
at short intervals throughout the evening. Sometimes 
in smaller receptions a supper is served, but this is by 
io means common, as from these meetings the ladies 
generally repair to a ball. The hour for meeting is be- 
tween nine and ten, and the party breaks up before one 
in the morning. The lady and gentleman of the house 
both receive the guests, somewhere near the door of the 
principal room ; or if the reception is a small one, the 
lady joins in the conversation, and comes forward when a 
guest is announced. Two or three rooms must be thrown 
open, curiosities, good engravings, handsome books, rare 
miniatures, old china, photographs, stereoscopes, and so 
forth, laid out gracefully on the tables, and a liberal sup- 
ply of ottomans, dos d dos, and sofas placed about in con- 
venient positions, not, however, so as to impede a general 
movement about the rooms. In the larger receptions 
gentlemen should not sit down, and, above all, not linger 
close to the door, but come forward and talk sense — not 
ball-room chit-chat — to such people as they happen to 
know. Introductions are not here the order of the day, 
as they must be in balls, but the lady of the house will 
take care to introduce gentlemen to such ladies as seem 
to have none to talk to. On the other hand, strangers 
#ho enter your set for the first time must receive the 
greatest attention — the greater the stranger the greater 
the guest — and must be introduced to the principal peo- 
ple. The lady must take care to create circulation, and 
the guests themselves should not be pinioned to one spot 
or one chair. 

The place occupied by music in these parties is a verj 



MUSIC. 



401 



ridiculous one, because it is got up mlj to make a noise, 
and prevent people being frightened, like Robinson Crusoe^ 
at the sound of their own voices. Sometimes a profes- 
sional musician or two is introduced ; sometimes young 
^adies are called upon to murder Italian or mouth out 
German; sometimes — not very often — there is some 
charming amateur singing, but unless the professionals 
are very great favorites, or the young ladies have very 
fine voices, or the guests — rarer still — can appreciate 
good melodious speaking music, the touch of the first 
notes is the signal for every one to find their ideas and 
their tongues. So far it must be confessed that the mu- 
sic inspires them, and the people who were stupidest be- 
fore, suddenly shine out quite brilliantly ; but it is cu- 
rious that while the first two chords can effect this, the 
remainder, good or bad, is drowned and talked down in 
the most ungrateful manner. Nothing can be worse bred 
than this ; and, therefore, in really good society, you will 
find that people know w T hen to use their tongues and when 
their ears. As to the etiquette of music, it is the sole 
privilege of the lady of the house to ask a guest to sing 
or play ; and when he or she can do so they will, if well 
bred, at once consent, without any palaver. A young 
lady must be led — poor victim — to the piano by some 
gentleman near at hand, who then offers to fetch her mu- 
sic for her ; and there is one hint which I will venture to 
give to young ladies when they have get their music, and 
h ive quickly chosen their song or piece • never wait till 
the company is silent, do not go on playing introductory 
bars, and looking round as if you expected them to stop 
talking for on the one hand, you will seldom succeed in 
making them da so ; on the other, those whe notice yow 



MORNING AND EVENING PARTIES. 



will think you are vain of your talents. Mo^e up yom 
mind that you are to sing only for the sake of the con- 
versation, and be consoled that those who can appreciate 
your singing will draw near and listen. The gentleman 
who has conducted you to the piano now stays to tun. 
over your pages for you; take care that he is able to to! 
low you. or give him a sign at the proper moment, other- 
wise he will be turning too soon, and bring you both into 
terrible confusion. The best way of giving receptions, 
which cost very little, is to fix on some day of the week, 
and repeat them every time it comes round. You then 
issue invitations to a very much larger number than your 
rooms will hold and for the whole course of receptions, 
so that your friends can choose the weeks most convenient 
to them. If at the first party you should only have a 
dozen guests, do not be disheartened. If your rooms are 
well lit up and well arranged, and yourself agreeable, 
they will be filled to excess before the middle of the 
Beason. 

Private concerts and amateur theatricals ought to be 
very good to be successful. Professionals alone should 
be engaged for the former, none but real amateurs for the 
latter. Both ought to be, but rarely are, followed by a 
supper, since they are generally very fatiguing, if not 
positively trying. In any case, refreshments and ices 
should be handed between the songs and the acts. Pri- 
vate concerts are often given in the " morning,' that is 
from two t: sir. P. M. ; in the evening their hours are 
from eight to eleven. The rooms should be arranged in 
the same manner as for a reception, the guests shou.d be 
seated, and as music is the avowed object, a general 
silence preserved while it lasts. Between the songs the 



TEA-PARTIES. 



403 



conversation ebbs back again, and the party takes the 
general form of a reception. For private theatricals ; 
however, where there is no special theatre, and where the 
curtain is hung, as is most common, between the foldiug- 
doors, the audience-room must be filled with chairs an. 
benches in rows. and. if possible, the back rows raised 
higher than the others. These are often removed when 
the performance is over, and the guests then converse, or 
sometimes even dance. During the acting it is rude to 
talk, except in a very low tone, and, be it good or bad 
you would never think of hissing. 

The tea-party is a much more sociable affair, and may 
vary in the number of guests from ten to thirty. The 
lighting is by ordinary lamps and candles ; two rooms suf- 
fice, and tea should be either handed or set out on a side- 
table in one of them. The guests should be chiefly of 
one set, and known to one another ; but if they are not so. 
they must be generally introduced. The ladies all sit 
down, and so may the gentlemen if they like, which they 
are, poor things, almost forbidden to do at receptions. 
The entertainment consists mostly of music and singing, 
by ladies and gentlemen present ; but sometimes a few 
round games are got up for the torture of old bachelors 
like myself. If the singing is good, a tea-fight may be a 
pleasant thing, especially for curates and old maids ; but 
in London it does not come under the head of t: gaieties." 
ind therefore the invitations to it must be given only a day 
or two before, either by word of mouth or a friendly note. 

The matinee requires three things to make it success- 
ful good grounds, a good band, and good weather. Money 
can command the first two, but, as we have no check over 
the clerk ol the weather, matinees are as well left alone 



404 



MORNING AND EVENING PARTIES. 



in towns, where people will dress exorbitantly for every- 
thing of this kind. However, if well arranged, and undei 
propitious skies, a matinee is a very good thing for Urba- 
nus, who loves sunshine, flowers, and gay tcilets. The 
company should be very numerous, comprising all the best 
dressed people you know, for dress is everything on these, 
occasions. In addition to a £ood brass-band, vou would 
do well to obtain the services of a glee club to sing in the 
open air between the instrumental pieces ; but then a ma- 
tinee becomes a very expensive entertainment, and so, in 
fact, it must be. You invite your guests for one o'clock, 
they arrive at two. and disperse in time to dress for dinner. 
They content themselves with walking about, listening to 
the music, and taking refreshments, or if you give it them, 
a lunch, in the large marquee, which, of course, you have 
had erected on the lawn. You have no trouble with your 
guests, and never dream of introducing them ; you bring 
them together under propitious circumstances, and they 
must amuse themselves. In matinees abroad they often 
dance. They are there very fashionable and much liked. 
In these open-air parties, in large towns and their neigh- 
borhood, people who do not know one another remain in 
that condition ; they are rarely, if ever, introduced, and 
they never dream of speaking to one another without an 
introduction. Very different, and much more sensible, is 
the foreign custom. 

For these town-parties, there are one or two general 
rales: The hostess should not be too empressi nor bust- 
ling in her welcome, she should receive every one alifct 
with amiable dignity, and above all, if she expects a lion 
or a grandee, should dismiss him from her thoughts till 
he comes, and then make no difference in his reception tc 



COUNTRY- PA I TIES. 



406 



that of the other guests. If she does make a distinction, 
the latter will smile cynically at her toadyism, and con- 
trast their cwn reception with that of " the favored guest' 7 
To make up for this restraint on her enthusiasm, she is 
)t obliged to know much about the domestic affairs of 
hoi guests. In good company of this kind, the babies and 
nurserymaids, the son at the Cape, and the daughter ip 
India, are forgotten for the time, or reserved for the smaller 
tea-party. In the conversazioni and receptions, you will 
hear none but public subjects, — every one's property — 
brought on the tapis. This knot you take for statesmen, 
for as you pass, each one of them is prophesying, with a 
shrewd look, what next step the Emperor will take. No. 
sir, they are simply fathers of families. Here you are cer • 
tain you have lighted on a batch of critics, male and 
female ; could ever any one else show such venom in the 
liscussion of the last celebrated book ? Nothing of the 
kind ; critics are doves in company, and these are only 
educated men, w r ith as little actual connexion with litera- 
ture as a sailor on the mizenyard. Then these men who 
are scientifically discussing some recent discovery, and 
hanging profoundly over the fate of some engineering en- 
terprise, are merely thinkers, by no means professional*, 
while those who talk of Lord John as an intimate chum y 
and Pam. as a man they could clap on the shoulder, are 
not M. P.'s, but only club-loungers. Even the gossip 
takes a public character, and the scandal is about people 
inown tc the whole world of fashion Then, again, the 
manner of the guests is calm and easy ; there is nc neces- 
i'ty to create mirth, the laughter is quiet, even the wit ia 
received with a smile, and discussions are carried on with 
interest but not with excitement. All the company too 



406 



MORNING ANI EVENING PARTIES. 



i? for the time on an equality, and it is bad taste to recog. 
nize a man's rank in a marked manner. Precedence ia 
best laid aside, and the curate may, if he likes, pass out 
of the room before the bishop. In short, the reception b 
\ kind of evening lounge. 

Very different is the character of country-parties. Ii * 
they are more sociable and friendly, because almost every- 
body is known to one another, if there is less formality 
and display about them, there is also less equality. If 
it is not necessary to light your rooms brilliantly, and 
secure the services of professional singers, in short, to 
supply some particular attraction, it is incumbent to bow 
to the local position held by each guest. Not indeed that 
this is good style, but that it is expected by people who 
very often have little more than their position to recom- 
mend them. The deputy-lieutenant may be a much duller 
man than the small squire, but in his own county he would 
take it very ill if you did not show him more attention 
than to the other. The vicar may, and often is far less 
agreeable than the curate, but the latter would never 
dream of making a move to go before the stately incum- 
bent had risen. Then, too, the conversation always verges 
on local and rural topics. The two squires talk of crops, 
game, boundaries, and magisterial questions, and find thein 
far more interesting than the fate of Europe. Their wives 
discuss the flower-show, the hunt-ball, the return of some 
family to the neighborhood. The young people get a step 
farther in year-long flirtations, and discuss with more or 
less acerbity the engagements of their mutual friends. In 
short, people, rather than things, are the themes of inter- 
est, and a stranger in a country-party finds himself almost 
ft foreigner in the land. And woe to him if he does not 



TENDER GROUND. 



401 



knc w by what title your nearest pack of bounds is called, 
or is ignorant of the noble sport of hunting, for, heavy- 
headed after their huge dinners, he will find most of the 
gentlemen unable to exert their brains farther than to re* 
call " that splendid run," or speculate on whether the 
n3 xt " master" will be a light or a heavy weight. 

However in country-parties, the strangers in the land 
receive as a rule the greatest attention, and if you, coming 
from town, find the company heavy, and the conversation 
narrow, you will at least have the consolation of infusing 
new spirit into, and quickening the movement, of clogged 
brains 

Country-parties consist chiefly of small dances which 
are not balls ; tea-parties ; private fetes, which are much 
the same as the matin *es already described; and pic-nics. 
Sociability and easy mirth is the main feature in all of 
them. As you are among people whom you knjw for the 
most part, you may be more familiar in your general 
manners, and to be agreeable, you are expected to be merry, 
humorous, and ready for anything that may be proposed. 
On the other hand, as prejudices are always greater in 
proportion to the narrowness of the mind, and are some- 
times especially deep-rooted in the squires and clergymen 
whom you meet in these gatherings, you must be very 
careful how you approach the topics which most interest 
them. I have known a whole party, at one moment full 
of merriment and laughter, suddenly cast into the deepest 
gloom of horror and dismay, by the innocent allusion of a 
stranger to " M. B." waistcoats, the rector who was 
present being high-church. On the same principle it is 
wise to avoid speaking much of the shurch itself, the 
achools, the dispensary, the preserves, the poor, and so 



408 MORNING AND EVENING PARTIES. 

forth, of the village, as country people are somewhat 

given to making these subjects matters for serious differ- 
ence, and it is a rare case for the squire and the clergy 
naan to be perfectly agreed on all points where their sup- 
posed rights can possibly clash. I have known a village 
li rided into a deadly feud for ten years by nothing but 
the pews in the church — one party wishing to keep them, 
and another to pull them down : and. though these re= 
ligious-minded people met perhaps once a month at vari- 
ous tea-parties and dinners, the church was never spoken 
of. and a stranger who might have unconsciously mention- 
ed the pews therein, would have thrown in a firebrand 
which would have lit up the whole parish. 

On entering a country party, you at once seek out the 
lady of the house, and shake hands with her. The same 
process is then performed with those members of the 
family whom you know, and any other of your acquain- 
tance present. In taking leave the same process is repeat- 
ed, and a simple bow would generally be considered as an 
impoliteness. The invitations to these parties partake of 
the same sociable character, and are made by friendly 
notes sent a few days beforehand, or even on the very day 
itself. You have not the same liberty of declining them 
as in town, nor can you have recourse to the polite formu- 
la of a " previous engagement, since everybody knows 
Trhat is going on in the neighborhood, and who is to be 
3t any party. You must theref>re find a good excuse or 
go. For my part, I think we should be better Chi is 
tiaus. and just as friendly, if we stated our real reasons : 
u 1 regret that I have not the time to spare," " I dc not 
feel inclined for society/' or, "I have no dress fox tne 
occasion." Such replies might create a little surnrise 



IN THE COUNTRY. 



409 



but "people must admire their candor, and everybody could 
sympathize with the writer's feelings. At any rate, you 
must avoid a sneer such as that given by a toe candid la- 
dy to a clergyman's wife who had invited her to a quiet 
little discussion of muffins on Shrove Tuesday. " I re- 
gret," she wrote " that I shall be unable to accept join 
invitation, as the near approach of Lent would preclude 
my joining in any festivities." 

Country hours, again, are much earlier than those in 
town. Except at great houses, where the dinner hour is 
seven, eight o'clock is the usual time for a tea-party' to 
begin, and before twelve the last guest departs. It is ne- 
cessary to be punctual in the country, whatever you may 
be in town ; and it would be considered as an unwarrant- 
able assumption of fashion to arrive mi hour after the 
time stated in the invitation. 

Tea is handed in the drawing-room, or, if the party be 
a small one, so arranged that all may sit round. In the 
latter case the tea-table must be plenteously spread with 
cakes, fruit r &c. &c. Appetites flourish in the free air 
of hills and meadows, and as a rule, country parties have 
more of the feeding system about them than those of town. 
Thus, unless dinner has been at a late hour, it is usual to 
have a supper laid out, or at least sandwiches, jellies, and 
trifle at a side-table. This, I must say i« a more agreea- 
ble feature of country entertainments than that of round 
gr\mes. At these, however, you must not look bored ; 
you must really for the time believe yourself a, child 
again, allow yourself to be amused, and enter heart and 
goul into it. Endeavor by every means in your power 
to add to the general hilarity ; talk without restraint, en- 
ter into innocent rivalry with the young ladies ; or, if 
18 



MORNING AND EVENING PARTIES. 



one of them yourself, challenge the most youthful, espe- 
cially the shy. of the other sex. You must find some- 
thing to laugh at in the merest trifle, but never roar or 
shriek. Never claim your winnings, but if they are 
effere'l you must take them, except from a young lady 
&nd from her on no consideration. 

A V bile we are melting here under the dog-star, and 
crushing up crowded staircases, and into ovens of rooms 
in the tightest dress that is worn, our country cousins are 
really enjoyiug themselves. They are now having tea 
out on the lawn, with bona fide cream to it too, none of 
our miserable delusions of calves' brains (beautiful satire 
on those who credulously swallow them) or chalk and 
water. Then when tea is done, they are positively going 
to dance here on the lawn, or there in that large empty 
out-house, resolved that nothing shall induce them to go 
into that house again till night ; and if they do not fl ;nce, 
they bring out every chair that is in it, and sitting round, 
play at hunt-the-ring, post, turning the trencher, or Blind 
Man's Buff. What dear children they are ! how pleasant 
to see the old gentlemen dragged in by the young girls, 
and made to play nolentes volentes ! how charming the 
laughter of these merry maidens, and the playful flirta- 
tion of the sturdy youths, who all day long have been 
carrying a gun or breaking a new horse in ! Well, well> 
if there is beauty enough to make us bless the excitement 
*hick brings the color to some lovely cheek. — if the 
young men 3an really help looking bored, and the old 
CU08 sham delight (as we old ones can, let me tell you. 
eir) / why, then, these out-door gaieties may be fresh and 
reviving and cheering to us dusty, withered, smoke-dried 
townsmen. But then where is conversation ? Swamped 



PIC-N1CS. 



411 



in badinage which, if I am not a young lover, 1 cannot 
possibly pump up. And where is that flow of thought 
and diversity of imagination which makes one hour with 
a clever man or a femme d esprit worth twenty-fcur in 
the presence of a mere beauty and animal spirits? Not 
t ere. 

So, then, they are matters of taste, these little parties, 
but not so the etiquette they require. You must be gay, 
you must laugh and chuckle and all that, but you must 
not overdo it ; you must not let your merriment carry you 
away. In out-door games especially, you must be careful 
not to romp, not to rush and tear about, nor be boister- 
ously merry. It may be difficult to steer between the 
Scylla of dullness and the Charybdis of romping, but you 
must always remember what dear fragile things the ladies 
are, and treat them tenderly. These games are, in fact, 
a severe test of politeness, grace, and delicacy, and if I 
wanted to discover your title to the name of gentleman 
or lady, I should set you to play at post or hunt-the-ring 
or what not of child's sport. 

Lastly, as to pic-nics, they are no longer the cheery 
gatherings of other days, when each person brought his 
quantum, and when on opening the baskets there were 
found to be three pigeon-pies but no bread, four contribu- 
tions of mustard but no 4 salt, dozens of wine but no beer, 
and so on. The only thing you are asked to bring in the 
present day is your very best spirits ; and everybody is 
expected to contribute these, for you cannot have tot 
much of them. A castle, a church, or something to see 
about which tc create an interest, is necessary to a suc- 
cessful pic-nic, much more so than champagne, which il 
is perhaps safer not to have, though it is always expected 



412 



MOKSING AND KVENINJ PARTIES. 



Servants ou^bt, if possible, to be dispensed with, and a 
free flow of the easiest merriment, not free in itself, it 
will be understood, should be allowed and encouraged. 

The collation, cold of course, is generally the first ob- 
ject after arriving at the rendezvous. It is of necessit} 
aiomewhat rough, for these same pic-nics are the happy, 
^casions when people try to forget that they are high]} 7 
r'vilized, but are scarcely ever allowed to do so. How- 
ever, nothing is more justly ridiculous than that people 
who come out to play the rustic should be accompanied by 
a bevy of Mercuries, and that while we attempt to imitate 
the simplicity of rural dryad life, spreading our viands' 
beneath the shady trees, we should have some half-dozen 
stately acolytes of fashion moving about us with all the 
solemnity of a London dinner-party. The servants then 
should be driven away a force (Tarmes, and the gentle- 
men take their place. Then see how immensely it in- 
creases the general hilarity to watch Fitzboots of the 
Muffineers sent about by the pretty misses, made of use 
"or the first time in his life, and with his hands -so full 
ihat he cannot even stroke out his splendid wdiiskers. 

Certainly the barriers of society ought to be broken 
Jown on these occasions. Everybody should be perfectly 
at his ease, and if the people are really well-bred, the 
liberty thus given will not be the least abused. A man 
sho drinks too much champagne, or a young lady who 
♦trolls away for a couple of hours with a young man 
among the ruins or in the wood, should scarcely be asked 
t ; join a second pic-nic. Then, too. free as they are, gay. 
Iiughing. and careless, they should not descend to noisj 
lumping. There ought to be a fair sprinkling of chape 
rons and elderly people, not to damp the gaiety but tc 



PIC-NICS. 



413 



restrain the carelessness of the younger ones. After all 
let youth be youth, and let it have its fling. If it he 
really innocent and well brought up, Miss Etiquette, prim 
old maid, will have nothing to say ; if otherwise, then sh« 
may preach in vain at a carnival. If our spirits ait 
good (and I feel quite young again in talking of thes 
things) let us enjoy them to the fullest, and be as sill) 
and as wild as the youngest. Never shoot a skylark 
while soaring : never curb young mirth in its proper qu 



CHAPTER XT. 



MARRIAGE. 

At a time when our feelings are or ought to be most aus- 
ceptiMe, when the happiness or misery of a condition in 
which there is no medium begins, we are surrounded with 
forms and etiquettes which rise before the unwary like 
spectres, and which even the most rigid ceremonialists 
regard with a sort of dread. 

Were it not. however, for these forms, and for this 
necessity of being en regie, there might, on the solemni- 
zation of marriage, be confusion, forgetfulness. and even — 
speak it not aloud — irritation among the parties most in- 
timately concerned. Excitement might ruin all. With- 
out a definite programme, the old maids of the family 
would be thrusting in advice. The aged chronicler of 
past events, or grandmother by the fireside, would have 
it all her way ; the venerable bachelor in tights, with his 
blue coat and metal buttons, might throw everything into 
confusion by his suggestions. It is well that we are in- 
dependent of all these interfering advisers ; that there is 
no necessity to appeal to them. Precedent has arranged 
It all ; we have only to put in or understand what (hat 
stern authority has laid down ; how it has been varied bj 
modern changes; and we must just shape our course 
boldly. c< Boldly?" But there is much to be done be- 
fore we come to that. First, there is the offer to b« 

f414) 



PRELIMINARIES. 



415 



oia Je, Well may a man who contemplates such a step 
say to himself, with Dry den, 

" These are tlie realms of everlasting fate 

for j in truth, on marriage one's wellheing not only hei 
but even hereafter mainly depends. But it is not on this 
Leaiing of the subject that we wish to enter, contenting 
ourselves with a quotation from the Spectator : 

" It requires more virtues to make a good husband or 
wife, thin what go to the finishing any the most shining 
character whatsoever. 5 ' 

England is distinguished from most of the continental 
countries by the system of forming engagements, and the 
mode in which they are carried on until terminated by 
marriage. 

In France, an engagement is an affair of negotiation 
and business ; and the system in this respect greatly re- 
sembles the practice in England, on similar occasions, a 
hundred and fifty or two hundred years ago, or even la- 
ter. France is the most unchanging country in the world 
in her habits and domestic institutions, and foremost 
among these is her 44 Marriage de convenance" or 
u Marriage de raisonP 

It is thus brought about. So soon as a young girl 
quits the school or convent where she has been educated, 
her friends cast about for a suitable parti. Most parents 
in France take care, so soon as a daughter is borm to 
pit aside a sum of money for her " dot^' as they well 
know that whatever may be her attractions, that is indis- 
pensable in order to be married. They are ever on the 
look out for a youth with at least an equal fortune, or 
more ; or, if they are rich, for title, which k deeded 



418 



MARRIAGE. 



tantamount to fortune ; even the power of writing thoss 
two little letters De before your name has some value in 
the marriage contract. Having satisfied themselves they 
thus address the young lady : — " It is now time fcr yon 
to be married ; I know of an eligible match ; you can see 
(be gentleman, either at such a ball or (if he is serious) 
at church. I do not ask you to take him if his appear- 
ance is positively disagreeable to you ; if so ? we will look 
out for some one else.' 7 

As a matter of custom, the young lady answers that the 
will of her parents is hers ; she consents to take a survey 
of him to whom her destiny is to be entrusted ; and let 
us presume that he is accepted, though it does not follow, 
and sometimes it takes several months to look out. as it 
does for other matters, a house, or a place, or a pair of 
horses. However, she consents ; a formal introduction 
takes place ; the promts calls in full dress to see his fu- 
ture wife ; they are only just to speak to each other, and 
those few unmeaning words are spoken in the presence of 
the bride-elect's mother ; for the French think it most 
indiscreet to allow the affections of a girl to be interested 
before marriage, lest during the arrangements for the 
contract all should be broken off. If she has no dislike, 
it is enough ; never for an instant are the engaged couple 
left alone, and in very few cases do they go up to the altar 
with more than a few weeks' acquaintance, and usually 
with less. The whole matter is then arranged by notar- 
ies, who squabble over the marriage-contract, and get al 
they can for their clients. 

The contract is usually signed in France on the day 
before the marriage, when all is considered safe ; the reli- 
gious portion of their bond takes place in the church, and 



THE PROPOSAL. 



417 



then tiie two young creatures are left together to under- 
stand each other if they can, and to love each odier if 
they will ; if not they must content themselves with what 
k teimed. un menage de Paris. 

In England formerly much the same system prevailed 
A boy of fourteen, before going on his travels, was con. ' 
tracted to a girl of eleven, selected as his future wife by 
parents or guardians ; he came back after the grande 
tour to fulfil the engagement. But by law it was imper- 
ative that forty days should at least pass between the 
contract and the marriage ; during which dreary interval 
the couple, leashed together like two young greyhounds § 
would have time to think of the future. In France, the 
perilous period of reflection is not allowed. u I really ara 
bo glad we are to take a journey," said a young French 
lady to her friends ; "I shall thus get to know something 
about my husband; he is quite a stranger to me." Some 
striking instances of the Marriage de convenance being 
infringed on, have lately occurred in France. The late 
Monsieur de Tocqueyille maried for love, after a five 
years' engagement. Guizot, probably influenced by his 
acquaintance with England, gave his daughters liberty to 
choose for themselves, and they married for love* — fi a 
very indelicate proceeding," remarked a French com- 
tesse of the old regime, when speaking of this arrange- 
ment. 

Nothing can be more opposed to all this than our Eng 
fish system. We are so tenacious of the freedom of sLokfy 
that even persuasion is* thought criminal. 

In France negotiations are often commenced on the la« 



• Two brothers, named De Witte. 

18* 



in 



MARRIAGE. 



dj's side : in England, never. Even too eneoiraginga 
manner, even the ordinary attentions of civility, are occa 
sionally a matter of reproach. We English are jealous 
of the delicacy of that sacred bond, which we presume to 
hope is to spring out of mutual affection. It is not here 
cur province to inquire what are the causes that have so 
sullied the marriage tie in England : what ire the reasons 
that it seldom holds out all that it promises ; we have only 
to treat of the rules and etiquettes which preface the 
union. A gentleman who. from whatever motives, has 
made up his mind to marry, may set about it in two ways. 
He may propose by letter or in words. The customs of 
English society imply the necessity of a sufficient know- 
ledge of the lady to be addressed. This, even in this 
country, is a difficult point to be attained : and. after all, 
cannot be calculated bv time, since, in large cities, vou 
may know people a year, and yet he comparative stran- 
gers : and. meeting them in the country, may become in- 
timate in a week. 

Having made up his mind, the gentleman offers — wisely 
if he can in speech. Letters are seldom expressive of 
what really passes in the mind of man : or. if expressive, 
seem foolish, since deep feelings are liable to exaggeration. 
Every written word may be the theme of cavil. Study, 
care, which avail in every other species of composition, 
are death to the lover's effusion. A few sentences, spoken 
in earnest, and broken by emotion, are more eloquent than 
pages of sentiment, both to parent and daughter. Let 
him. however, speak and be accepted. He is in that cass 
instantly taken into the intimacy of his adopted relatives. 
Such is the notion of English honor, that the engaged 
couple are henceforth allowed to be frequently alone to- 



THE ENGAGEMENT. 



4J9 



gHher, in walking and at home If there be no knowr 
obstacle to the engagement, the gentlemen and lady are 
mutually introduced to the respective relatives of each. 
It is for the gentleman's family to call first ; for him to 
make the first present ; and this should be done as soon ag 
jvo&uMe after the offer has been accepted. It is a sort of 
seal put upon the affair. The absence of presents is 
thought to imply want of earnestness in the matter. This 
present generally consists of some personal ornament, say, 
a ring, and should be handsome, but not so handsome as 
that made for the wedding-day. During the period that 
elapses before the marriage, the betrothed man should 
conduct himself with peculiar deference to the lady's 
family and friends, even if beneath his own station. It 
is often said : u I marry such a lady, but I do not mean 
to marry her whole family." This disrespectful pleasant- 
ry has something in it so cold, so selfish, that even if 
the lady's family be disagreeable, there is a total absence 
of delicate feeling to her in thus speaking of those near- 
est to her. To her parents especially, the conduct of 
the betrothed man should be respectful ; to her sisters 
kind, without familiarity ; to her brothers, every evidence 
of good-will should be testified. In making every provi- 
sion for the future, in regard to settlements, allowance for 
dress, &c, the extent of liberality convenient should be 
the spirit of all arrangements. Perfect candor as to hia 
own affairs, respectful consideration for those of the fami- 
ly he is about to enter, mark a true gentleman. 

In France, however gay and even blameable a man may 
have been before his betrothal, he conducts himself with 
the utmost propriety after that event. A sense of what 
is duo to a lady should repress all habits unpleasant ts 



120 



MARRIAGE. 



ner : smoking, if disagreeable ; frequenting places of 
amusement without her ; or paying attention to othei 
women. In this respect, indeed, the sense of honor should 
lead a man to be as scrupulous when his future wife h 
absent as when she is present, if not more so. These 
rules of conduct apply in some respects to ladies also. 
Nothing is so disgusting 01 unpromising for the future aa 
the flirtations which engaged young ladies permit them- 
selves to carry on after they have pledged themselves to 
one person alone. This display of bad laste and vanity 
often leads to serious unhappiness, and the impropriety, 
if not folly, should be strongly pointed out to the young 
lady herself. 

The attitude assumed by a flirt is often the impulse of 
folly more than of boldness. It is agreeable to her vanity, 
she finis, to excite jealousy, and to show her power. Even 
if the rash and transient triumph produce no lasting ef- 
fect on the peace of mind before marriage, it is often re- 
called with bitterness after marriage by him who was then 
- alave, but is now a master. 

In equally bad taste is exclusiveness. The devotions 
vi tw~o engaged persons should be reserved for the Ufe-a 
^ie y and women are generally in fault when it is oUier- 
* me. They like to exhibit their conquest ; they cruinot 
dispense with attentions ; they forget that the demonstra- 
tion of any peculiar condition of things in society must 
^dRe some one uncomfortable : the young lady u un- 
nnfortable because she is not equally happy : the young 
man detests w T ha + , he calls nonsense ; the old think there 
x3 a time for all things. All sitting apart, therefore, and 
peculiar displays, are in bad taste ; I am inclined to think 
that they often accompany insincerity, and that ibe trues* 



PECUNIARY MATTERS. 



421 



affections are those which are reserved for the genuine 
«uid heartfelt intimacy of private interviews. At the same 
v ime, the airs of indifference and avoidance should be 
equally guarded against ; since, however strong a mutual 
ittachment may be. such a line of conduct is apt need 
iessly to mislead others, and so produce mischief. Ti u** 
feeling, and a ladylike consideration for others, a point in 
which the present generation essentially fails, are the best 
guides for steering between the extremes of demonstra- 
tion on the one hand, and of frigidity on the other. 

During the arrangement of pecuniary matters, a young 
lady should endeavor to understand what is going on, re- 
ceiving it in a right spirit. If she has fortune, she 
should, in all points left to her, be generous and confiding, 
at the same time prudent. Many a man, she should re- 
member, may abound in excellent qualities, and yet be 
improvident. He may mean to do well, yet have a pas* 
aion for building ; he may be the very soul of good na 
ture, yet fond of the gaming-table ; he may have no 
wrong propensities of that sort, and yet have a confused 
notion of accounts, and be one of those men who muddle 
away a great deal of money no one knows how ; or he 
may be a too strict economist, a man who takes too good 
care af the pence, till he tires your very life out about an 
extra* queen Vj-head ; or he may be facile or weakly good* 
natured, and have a friend who preys on him, and for 
whom he is disposed to become security. Finally, the 
beloved Charles, Henry, or Reginald may have none ol 
these propensities, but T?ay chance to be an honest mer- 
chant, or a tradesman, with all his floating capital m 
business, and a consequent risk of bc ; n^ ^nt Viob, thf 
uoxt a pauper. 



MARRIAGE, 



Upon every account, therefore, it is desirable for a 
young lady to have a settlement on her ; and she should 
not, from a weak spirit of romance, oppose her friends 
who advise it, since it is for her husband's advantage as 
H $11 as her own. By making a settlement there is always 
3 fund which cannot be touched — a something, however 
small, as a provision for a wife and children ; and whethef 
she have fortune or not, this ought to be made. An al- 
lowance for dress should also he arranged ; and this should 
be administered in such a way that a wife should not have 
to ask for it at inconvenient hours, and thus irritate her 
husband. 

Every preliminary being settled, there remains nothing 
except to fix the marriage day, a point always left to the 
lady to advance ; and next to settle how the ceremonial ia 
to be performed is the subject of consideration. 

Marriage by banns is confined to the poorer classes ; and 
a license is generally obtained by those who aspire to the 
u habits of good society" It is within the recollection of 
many, even middle-aged persons, that the higher classes 
were, some twenty years ago, married only by special 
license — a process costing about £50 instead of £*h\ and 
therefore supposed by our commercial country especially to 
denote good society. Special licenses have, however, be- 
come unfashionable. They were obtained chiefly on ac- 
count of their enabling persons to be married at any hour 
whereas the canon prescribes the forenoon : aftei mid-da j 
t is illegal to celebrate a marriage. In some instances, 
dining the Crimean war, special licenses were resorted to 
to unite couples — when the bridegroom-elect had been 
ordered ofif, and felt, with his bride, that it were happier 
for both to belong to each other even in death. But the 



THE LICENSE AND THE TEOUSfcEAU. 



423 



ordinary couples walk up to the altars of their respective 
parish churches. 

It is to be lamented that previously to so solemn a cer- 
emony, the thoughts of the lady concerned must neces- 
sarily be engaged for some time upon her trousseau. Th, 
trousseau consists, in this country, of all the 'habiliment? 
necessary for a lady's use for the first two or three years 
of her married life ; like every other outfit there are al- 
ways a number of articles introduced into it that are next 
%o useless, and are only calculated for the vain-glory of 
the ostentatious. A trousseau may, in quiet life, be form- 
ed upon so low a sum as <£60 or JL 70 ; it seldom costs, 
however, less than X10Q, and often mounts up to <£5Q0, 
By which useless extravagance a mass of things that soon 
cease to be fashionable, or that wear out from being laid 
by, is accumulated. 

The trousseau being completed, and the day fixed, it 
becomes necessary to select the bridesmaids and the bride- 
groom's man, and to invite the guests. 

The bridesmaids are from two to eight in number. It 
is ridiculous to have many, as the real intention of the 
bridesmaid is, that she should act as a witness of the mar- 
riage. It is, however, thought a compliment to include 
the bride's sisters and those of the bridegroom's relations* 
and intimate friends, in case sisters do not exist. 

When a bride is young the bridesmaids should be young , j 
but it is absurd to see a 61 single woman of a certain age," \ 
or a widow, surrounded by blooming girls, making her look 
plain and foolish. For them the discreet woman of thirty- 
five is more suitable as a bridesmaid. Custom decides 
that the bridesmaids should be spinsters, but there is no 
legal objection to a married f email being a bridesman] 



124 



MARRIAGiS. 



should it be necessary, as it might be abroad, or at sea ot 
•where ladies are few in number. Great care should ht 
taken not to give offence in the choice of bridesmaids bj 
a preference, which is always in bad taste on momentous 
occasions. 

The guests at the wedding should be selected with sim« 
ilar attention to what is right and kind, with consideration 
to those who have a claim on us, not only to what we 
ourselves prefer. 

In London, for a great wedding breakfast, it is custom- 
ary to send out printed cards from the parents or guar- 
dians from whose house the young lady is to be married. 

Early in the day, before eleven, the bride should be 
dressed, taking breakfast in her own room. In England 
we load a bride with lace flounces on a rich silk, and even 
sometimes with ornaments. In Erance it is always re- 
membered, with better taste, that when a young lady goes 
up to the altar, she is " encore jeune Jillc ;" her dress, 
therefore, is exquisitely simple ; a dress of tulle over white 
silk, a long wide veil of white tulle, going down to the 
very feet, a wreath of maiden-blush-roses interspersed 
with orange flowers. This is the usual costume of a 
French bride of rank, or in the middle classes equally. In 
England, however, one must conform to the established 
custom, although it is much to be wished that in the classes 
who can set the example, the French usage should be 
adopted. A lace dress over silk is generally worn in Eng- 
land The lace should be of the finest quality. Brus- 
sels or Honiton is the most delicate and becoming the veil 
should be of the same sort of lace as the dfess. A wreath 
of roses and orange flowers is worn round the head, not 
confining the veil. The silk ought to be plain ; glace, no* 



WEDDING-GARMENTS. 



moire, if tlie bride be young, as the latter is rou hea< r y • 
if she h no longer young, nothing is so becoming as inoiri 
silk, either wnite or silver grey. Widows and ladies not 
young are usually married in bonnets, which should be ?f 
the most elegant description, trimmed with flowers 32 
feathers, according to the taste of the wearer. 

The gentleman's dress should differ little from his full 
morning costume. The days are gone by when gentlemen 
were married — as a recently deceased friend of mine wag 
— in white satin breeches and waistcoat. In these days 
men show less joy in their attire at the fond consummation 
of their hopes, and more in their faces. A dark-blue 
frock-coat — black being superstitiously considered ominous 
— a white waistcoat, and a pair of light trousers, suffice 
for the " happy man." The nock-tie also should be light 
and simple. Polished boots are not amiss, though plain 
ones are better. The gloves must be as white as the linen. 
Both are typical — for in these days types are as important 
as under the Hebrew lawgivers — of the purity of mind 
and heart which are supposed to exist in their wearer. 
Eheu ! after all, he cannot be too well dressed, for the 
more gay he is the greater the compliment to his bride. 
Flowers in the button-hole and a smile on the face show 
the bridegroom to be really a " happy man. 55 

As soon as the carriages are at the door, those brides- 
maids, who happen to be in the house, and the other 
members of the family set off first. The bride goes last, 
with her father and mother, or with her mother alone, and 
the brother or relative who is to represent her father in 
case of death or absence. The bridegroom, his friend, or 
bridegroom's man, and the bridesmaids ought to be waiting 
in the church. The father of the bride gives her his arm 



*26 



MARRIAGE 



and leads her to the altar. Here her bridesmaids stun ] 
near her, as arrange! by the clerk, and the bridegroom 
takes his appointed place. 

It is a good thing for the bridegroom's man to distribute 
the different fees to the clergyman or clergymen, the cleik, 
and pew-opener, before the arrival of the bride / as it pe» 
rents confusion afterwards. 

The bride stands to the left of the bridegroom, and 
takes the glove off her right hand, whilst he takes his 
glove off his right hand. The bride gives her glove to the 
bridesmaid to hold, and sometimes to keep, as a good 
omen. 

The service then begins. During the recital, it is cer 
tainly a matter of feeling how the parties concerned should 
behave ; but if tears can be restrained, and a quiet mod- 
esty in the lady displayed, and her emotions subdued, it 
adds much to the gratification of others, and saves a few 
pangs to the parents from whom she is to part. 

It should be remembered that this is but the closing 
scene of a drama of some duration — first the offer, then 
the consent and engagement. In most cases the marriage 
has been preceded • by acts which h*ve stamped the whole ' 
with certainty, although we do not adopt the contract sys- 
tem of our forefathers, and although no event in this life 
can be certain. 

I have omitted the mention cf the bouquet, because it 
seems to me always an awkward addition to the bride, and 
that it should be presented afterwards on her return to the 
breakfast. Gardenias, if in season, white azalia, or even 
camellias, with very little orange flowers, form the ; ridal 
bouquet. The bridesmaids are dressed, on this occasion, 
so as to complete the picture with effect. When there 



THE BREAKFAST. 



407 



are six or eight, it is usual for three cf them to dress m 
one color, and three in another. At some cf the most 
fashionable weddings in London, the bridesmaids weal 
veils — these are usually of net or tulle ; white tarlatan 
ir esses, over muslin or beautifully-worked dresses, art 
0'tir,h worn, with colors introduced— pink or blue, an ! 
scarves of those colors ; and white bonnets, if bonnets are 
e #orn, trimmed with flowers to correspond. These should 
be simple, but the flowers as natural as possible, and of 
the finest quality. The bouquets of the bridesmaids should 
be of mixed flowers. These they may have at church, 
but the present custom is for the gentlemen of the house 
to present them on their return home, previous to the 
wedding breakfast. 

The register is then signed. The bride quits the 
church first with the bridegroom, and gets into his car- 
riage, and the father and mother, bridesmaids, and bride- 
groom's man, follow in order in their own. 

The breakfast is arranged on one or more tables, and ia 
generally provided by a confectioner when expense is not 
an object. 

Flowers skilfully arranged in fine Bohemian g^ss, or 
in ppergnes composed of silver, with glass-dishes, are very 
ornamental on each side of the wedding-cake, which stands 
in the centre. When the breakfast is sent from a confec- 
tioner's, or is arranged in the house by a professed cx?k, 
the wedding-cake is richly ornamented with flowers, in 
sugar, and a knot of orange-flowers at tne top. At each 
end of the table are tea and coffee. Soup is sometimes 
handed. Generally the viands aie cold, consisting of 
poultry or game, lobster-salads, chicken or fish d la May- 
irnaisses hams, tongues, potted-meats, prawns, and 



123 



MARRIAGE. 



game-pies ; raisins, savory jellies, sweets of every descrip- 
tion — all cold. Ice is afterwards banded, and. before the 
healths are drunk, tbe wedding-cake is cut by the nearest 
gentleman and handed round. 

Th 3 father then proposes the health of the bride an*! 
bridegroom. The latter is expected to answer, and to 
propose the bridegroom's man. The bridegroom's man 
returns thanks, and pledges the bridesmaids, who answer 
through the bridegroom. All other toasts are optional, 
but it is de rigiiewr that the health of the clergyman or 
clergymen wdio tied the knot, if present, should be drunk. 

After these ceremonials have been duly performed, and 
ample justice has been done to the breakfast, the bride 
retires, and the company usually take leave of her in the 
drawing room and depart. 

It must be borne in mind that the wedding-breakfast 
is not a dinner, and that the gentlemen do not stay be- 
hind to take wine wdien the party breaks up and the la- 
dies go up stairs. 

A few words before this sometimes gay, sometimes sad 
scene is dismissed. 

The good sense of several personages in the higher 
ranks has broken through the customary appearance of 
the bride at the break fist, or indeed if she breakfast at 
all. In France, the friends assembled to witness a wed- 
ding do not follow the bride home. A ball or soiree 
generally follows in the evening. Most people, one would 
suppose, would be gladly released from the unnatural re- 
past at an unusual hour ; the headache that make3 ths 
rest of the day miserable ; the hurry of the morning ; the 
lassitude of the afternoon ; the tearful, stumbling speeches 
of dear papa" after champagne ; the modest, shy. broken 



A.VTER THE EVENT. 



429 



sentences of che victimized bridegroom ; the extremely 
critical situation of his bachelor friend, expected to be in 
love with all the bridesmaids ; the sighs of the mother, 
an! prognostics of maiden aunts ; the heat, the disgust to 
Chose articles which look so well by candlelight, but do 
D}fc bear daylight — creams, whips, jellies, and all tint 
tribe of poisons; and, worst of all, the vast expense to 
those who pay. and slight degree of pleasure to those who 
do not — these are among the miseries of the wedding- 
breakfast. 

Then the peculiar situation of the bride, tricked out 
with finery like the bceuf-gras on Shrove-Tuesday, every 
one staring at her to see how she looks ; her sensitive na- 
ture ail excited by the past solemnity ; her inmost feelings 
crushed or raked up, as may be, by congratulations. To 
subject a lady to such torture seems an act of cruelty in 
cold blood. Suppose her joy is too great for utterance, 
that there has been opposition in delay, why stick her up 
on a pedestal, so that all may read the emotions of that 
throbbing heart beneath its encasement of Brussels lace? 
Suppose that heart does not go along with the joy, and 
the compliments and the hopes of ever-constant felicity ; 
H let the stricken deer go weep do not parade what now 
had better be forgotten. To some heart in that over- 
dressed assembly of smiling friends there will be a touch, 
in whatever is said, to give pain; on occasions also where 
the feelings form the actual theme, the les& said tha 
tetter. 

The bride has, however, retired, and we will follow. 
Her travelling-dress is now to be assumed. This should 
he good in quality, but plain, like a handsome dress foi 
morring calls. An elegant bonnet, not too plain, a hand- 



MARRIAGE. 



some shawl or mantle, and colored gloves, form the suita= 
ble costume, of which it is impossible to define the com* 
ponent parts, but we merely recommend that the colors 
cf the dress, and shawl, and bonnet, should as nearly 
possible assimilate; that the style should be of the ven 
he*^ so that the impression left may be suitable, agreea 
ble and elegant. 

One more word about fees to servants. These form a 
very varying point on a marriage, and depend on the con- 
dition in life of the parties. A considerable sum is ex- 
pected from a nobleman, or a commoner of large fortune, 
but a much more modest calculation for a professional 
man. or a son whose father is still living, and who receives 
merely an allowance to enable him to marry. 

Presents are usual, first from the bridegroom to the 
bridesmaids. These generally consist of jewelry, the de- 
vice of which should be unique or quaint, the article 
more elegant than massive. The female servants of the 
family, more especially servants who have lived many 
years in their place, also expect presents, such as gowns 
or shawls ; or to a very valued personal attendant or 
housekeeper, a watch. But on such points discretion 
must suggest, and liberality measure out the largesss of 
ihs gift. 







1879. 



. v 




1879. 




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Delapiaine. Do. 0. 

Beverly. Do 

Bel dazzle's Bachelor Studies ... . 
Northern Ballads — E. L. Anderson 
O. C. Kerr Pape-s. 4 vols, in one.. 
Victor Hugo— His autobiosrraphv .. 
Sandwiches— Bv Artemus~Ward. . . 
Widow So- igsrins— AYidow Bedott. 

Wood's Guide to N. Y. City 

Loval unto Death 

Bessie Wilmerton— Westcott. 



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CHARLES DICKENS' WOEKS, 



A Kew Edition. 1 

Among the many editions of the works of this greatest 4 
English Novelists, there has not been until now one that entirely 
satisfies the public demand. — Without exception, trey each have 
some strong distinctive objection, — either the form and dimensions j 
of the volumes are unhandy — or, the type is small and indistinct— 
or. the Illustration?; are unsatisfactory — or, the binding is poor— or, - 
the price <s too high. 

An entirely new edition is now, however, published by G. W, 
Carleton & Co. of New York, which, it is believed, will, in every 
respect, completely satisfy the popular demand. — It is known as 

"€arieion'§ New Illustrated Edition. 55 
Complete in 15 Volumes. 

The size and form is most convenient for holding,— the type Is 
entirely new, and of a cleai and open character that has received the ; 
approval of the reading community in other popular works. 

The illustrations are by the original artists chosen \ y Charles » 
Dickens himself — and the paper, printing, and binding are of an ) 
attractive and substantial character. 

This beautiful new edition is complete in 15 volumes — at the i 
extremely reasonable price of $1.50 per volume, as follows : — 

1. — PICKWICK PAPERS AND CATALOGUE. 

2. — OLIVER TWIST. — UNCOMMERCIAL TRAVELLER. 

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The first volume —Pickwick Papers — contains an alphabetical 
catalogue of ail of Charles Dickens' writings, with their pi>3itia^s 
I In the volumes. . 
This edition is sold by Booksellers, everywhere — and single sped- 
mea copies will he forwarded by mail, postage free i 011 receipt oi 
Is.SOy by 

G. W. CARLETON & CO., Publishers, 

Madison S"-re. Nc?r Yt^k* » 
\ _ , . , .... — |j 



Mrs. Mary J. Holmes' Works. 



TEMPEST AND SUNSHINE. 
ENGLISH ORPHANS. 
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HUGH WORTHIN GTON. 

CAMERON PRIDE. 

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ETHELYN'S MISTAKE. 

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OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. 

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is very happy in portraying domestic life. Old and young peruse her stories 
with great delight, for she writes in a style that all can comprehend." — Nezv 

The North American Review, vol. 81, page 557, says of Mrs. Mary J. 
Holmes' novel "English Orphans": — '''With this novel of Mrs. Holmes' we have 
been charmed, and so have a pretry numerous circle of discriminating readers to 
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dence of true success on character, an d of true respectability on merit.'' 

"Mrs. Holmes' stories are all of a domestic character, and their interest there- 
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the close. Her sentiments are so sound, her sympathies so warm and ready, 
and her knowledge of manners, character, and the varied incidents of ordinary 
life is so thorough, that she would find it difficult to write any other than an 
excellent tale if she were to try it." — Boston Banner. 

The volumes are all handsomely prir.ted and bound in cloth, sold every- 
where, and sent by mail, postage free, on receipt of price [Si. 50 each], by 

G. W. CARLETON & CO., Publishers, 

Madison Square, Neiu York. 



2 



TWO EXCELLENT BOOKS 



JUST PUBLISHED. 



THE AET OF CONVERSATION, 



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upon— 

Attention in Conversation. — Satire. — Puns. — Sarcasm. — 
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ledge. — Languages. — General Hints to All. 



AET Of WEITING, BEADING, AND SPEAKING. 



A fascinating work for teaching and perfecting everyone in these 
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Among the contents will be found chapters upon — 
Reading and Thinking. — Language. — Words, Sentences, and 
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ing. — What to Say. — What not to Say. — How to Begin. — Cau- 
tions. — Delivery. — Writing a Speech. — First Lessons. — Public 
Speaking. — Delivery. — Action. — Oratory of the Pulpit. — 
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*** These books are beautifully printed, bound and sent by mail, 
postage free, on receipt of price, by 




Cr. W. CARLETON & CO., Publishers, New York. 



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